


The Original Cambion

by KBeautimous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Cambion, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Other, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-12 20:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9090325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KBeautimous/pseuds/KBeautimous
Summary: Just as they're gearing up to stop the apocalypse, Bobby, Dean, Sam, and more importantly, Castiel, meet the original Cambion, a half-demon half-human hybrid. And she wants to... Help them?OFC insert, starts roughly S5E16, will not follow story all the way through.





	1. I've Seen a Lot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story won't get out of my head, so I'm writing it down.

Jesse Turner sensed another presence. A presence like  _ him. _

It wasn’t like the people milling about on the boardwalk with him. The… Humans. Their auras were bland, and most of them put off very little power. It wasn’t like a person.

It was like him. A Cambion.

Jesse frowned and increased his pace. As far as he knew, he was the only Cambion in existence. When had another one come into existence? Why hadn’t he felt it?

Before he could think of an answer, the world spun away from him.

In the emptiness that exists in transporting from one place to another simultaneously, Jesse felt soft, warm lips press to his ear. A cool, low voice with a lovely English accent spoke.

“I’m so sorry, Jesse. If I could, I would change this. I will make sure you go to heaven, dear.”

There was a sharp crack, a flash of horrid pain, and then nothing but a white, bright light.

***

Dean Winchester walked into the liquor store irritated.

He was irritated at Sam, he was irritated at the angels, he was irritated at demons, and he was irritated at himself. He wanted a bottle of whiskey, maybe two, and a motel room by himself, and maybe a pretty blonde to keep him company.

And he saw her as soon as he took a look around.

She was short and curvy, pretty much perfect. She had long blonde hair that spilled down her back in curls. She was wearing tall black boots, tight jeans, and a black peacoat. She was looking at wines. Dean grinned.  _ Classy. _

He approached her, trying to be casual, looking around at the selections. He noticed her looking at him out of the corner of her eye, and he grinned. He finally stood next to her.

“Hey.”

She turned and smiled at him, her green eyes sparkling at him. “Hi,” she said softly, a pretty English accent rolling off of her lips.

“Name’s Dean.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean,” she lilted. The way his name  sounded on her tongue made him want to hear her crying it out beneath him.

He smirked, thought about his angle, then decided on simple. He was too fried for anything else. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her smile shone up at him. “I have a feeling you’re exaggerating, sir.”

He shook his head. “No, no, I’m not. Trust me, sweetheart, I’ve seen a lot, and you’re definitely the prettiest.”

Her smile turned smug. “You have quite a way with words.”

He grinned. “I’m pretty good with a lot of things.”

A pretty blonde eyebrow cocked up. “Is that so?”

He leaned toward her. “If you tell me your name, I can show you what they are.”

She seemed to look at him for a long time, and whatever she saw there brought him out on top.

“Zoey. My name is Zoey.”

***

Her hot little hand palming him through his jeans had Dean’s knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. Her lips pressed against his ear and he could feel her smile. “Tell me you want me, Dean,” she breathed.

He tilted his head back, a little dizzy. “Fuck,  _ yes, _ baby, holy fuck, I want you.”

Her low chuckle made his eyes drift closed before he remembered he was driving. “Oh, shit, baby, you’re gonna kill us.”

She hummed against his neck and pressed her hand against him again. “But what a way to go,” she said softly.

He pulled into the motel and shot out of the Impala as fast as he could. Before she could get out, he was opening her door and pulling her out. He tossed her over his shoulder, savoring her tinkling laugh. “Dean, you Neanderthal,” she scolded, leaning forward to nip at the small of his back.

He shuddered and opened the door after a moment of struggling against it, and against the blood rushing away from his head.

As soon as the door was shut, he dropped her to her feet, keeping her close so she slid down her front.  _ Fuck. _

He pressed her up against the wall, kissing her hard. She was incredibly responsive, pressing into him, her hands fisting in his shirt. She moaned into his mouth, and when he nipped at her bottom lip, she opened for him. He couldn’t stop the groan into her mouth when he tasted her, like strawberries and wine.

She whimpered and tilted her head back, and he took the opportunity to kiss her neck gently.

“Oh, fuck,” she said softly, her accent making him want her even more. “You were correct,” she breathed out, “you’re very,  _ very _ good at this, Dean Winchester.”

All of the blood rushed back into Dean’s brain, and he felt the lust completely clear away. He kept her pinned to the wall, but slowly raised his head.

She looked up at him, all wide green eyes and wild blonde hair, and he felt a real pang of regret that he couldn’t take her there tonight.

“Don’t recall giving you my last name,” he drawled.

She smiled, the heat never leaving her eyes. “Oh, darn,” she said nonchalantly. “I was hoping this would last longer.”

The woman in his arms changed completely, and he blinked. The curves became almost nonexistent, although her height stayed the same. Her hair was suddenly in a choppy cut that ended at her chin, and was an absolutely radioactive pink color. Her eyes, however, stayed the same, shining green. Of course, now there was amusement and something darker there instead of lust.

“Hi, Dean Winchester,” she said softly. The accent stayed, too. “My name really is Zoey, by the way. Zoey Crane.”

He frowned, but before he could say anything, he found himself being tossed across the room.

She tilted her head and smiled down at him on the floor. “And I’m here to save your ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here's my notes:  
> I own only Zoey Crane, the original character. I don't own Supernatural or the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Reviews, comments, and kudos give me the warm fuzzies and keep me going.  
> If there are any mistakes in continuity, canon, or geography, blame me.  
> **Let me know what you think! If you guys are intrigued, I'll keep it up. If you're not, I'll probably still write it, but you just won't read it. <3 Thank you for giving me yet another chance, beautiful readers.


	2. We Wait Until Morning

Zoey Crane was enjoying herself  _ immensely. _   
  
Dean Winchester’s expression was  _ priceless. _   
  
She grinned. “What’s wrong, love? Did I catch you by surprise?”   
  
“Who the  _ fuck _ are you?” he growled, struggling against the power holding him down.   
  
She effortlessly kept him where he was. “I already told you. My name is Zoey Crane, and I’m here to help you. Terribly rude not to listen when a woman speaks, Dean.”   
  
He glared at her, those green eyes so similar to the ones she looked at in the mirror sparking anger. “Fuck you.”   
  
She tossed her head back and laughed. “All in good time, love. For now, we have an apocalypse to prevent.”   
  
Before she could continue, a pounding at the door interrupted her. “Dean?! Dean!? What the hell was that?”   
  
Zoey stepped over to open the door. None other than Sam Winchester stood there, towering over her with almost a foot of height advantage. He was slimmer than his brother, but they were both wide and muscular and exuded a quiet strength.   
  
But Zoey had never been intimidated by men who were bigger or stronger than her.   
  
Zoey had never been intimidated by much.   
  
“Sam!” She said happily, “Join us!”   
  
Sam moved forward, his hazel eyes widening as he fought her power. “What the fuck?”   
  
“Oh, good grief,” she chided as she shut the door. “No need for profanity, nobody’s gotten hurt.”   
  
Dean frowned. “You just threw me into a wall!”   
  
She rolled her eyes and put Sam down next to his brother, both sitting against the wall. “I pulled it at the last second, you’re fine.”   
  
Sam shook his head and stilled his struggles. “Wait. Hold on. Who the  _ fuck _ are you?”   
  
She smiled. “My name is Zoey Crane. I’m here to help with those pesky archangels.”   
  
Dean’s eyebrows rose. “You know about-“   
  
_ “Everyone _ knows about it, Dean,” she said softly, her mood starting to sober a little. The archangels really weren’t a joke. At least, they weren’t a joke if you weren’t Zoey Crane. “The whole supernatural world knows what happened in that little convent.” At Sam’s wince, “Not all of us blame you, though. Not those of us who know what happened.”   
  
Sam stared at her for another moment. “Who  _ are _ you? Who are you really?”   
  
She sighed and took a deep breath.  _ You knew this was coming, Zoey, you can do this. _ “All right, Winchesters, I’m about to be more honest with you than I have been with a living being for a very, very long time, so buckle up.” Another deep breathe. “My name is Zoey Crane. I’m one hundred and four years old, I’m the first Cambion to ever be born, and I’m here to help you defeat Lucifer and Michael.”

***

_ Around a year earlier… _

Zoey woke up in a cold sweat with strange power surging through her veins. With a gasp, she turned quickly, promptly falling off the bed and landing on the floor with a  _ thump. _ She struggled to inhale, willing herself to calm down as the power thrumming in her blood made her want to stand and rip buildings down and tear the sky apart and scream across the world.

A soft  _ mrow? _ brought her back to herself, at least a little. She cracked an eye open to look at her fat orange tabby cat, Murphy, who was looking at her with concern.

“S’okay, Murph,” she slurred, the power making her lightheaded. “S’okay, I’ll get up in a sec.”

After what felt like a small eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, she felt steady enough to sit back up. She took deep breaths and tried to center herself. It was hard, but she got a handle on it after a while.

She got to her feet, still a little woozy, and carefully made her way to the bathroom. She left the light off and just stripped and stepped into the shower.

The hot water hitting her in the face centered her the rest of the way, and she held her breath for as long as possible to stay under the spray. Once she felt her lungs starting to ache, she turned away and gasped, the oxygen rushing to clear out the last of the cobwebs in her head.

She showered, then wrapped herself in a towel. She swiped across the foggy mirror to look at herself, still taking some shaky breaths.

She frowned at her reflection, taking in her green eyes and pink hair.

“What the hell?”

***

Silence met her declaration, and it made Zoey bitchy again.  _ Bastards. _

“Cat got your tongue, gentlemen?” she asked sweetly.

“But… But Jesse… Jesse Turner was the only Cambion alive,” Sam protested weakly.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “The only Cambion the angels knew about, yes.”

Dean scowled. “So why the hell didn’t they know about you?”

“A Cambion’s power keeps them hidden until they hit puberty,” Zoey explained dryly. “And by that time, I had my power well under control. I had no need for a natural camouflage, I made my own.”

Sam frowned. Zoey could almost see the wheels turning, and she let him think. It was rather a lot to absorb.

“How did we not know about you?” Sam asked, finally meeting her eyes.

Before she could answer, a third man appeared in the room. She took a moment to examine him, trench coat, dark hair, bright blue eyes.  _ Castiel. _

Those eyes widened when they saw her. “Cambion,” he breathed.

Before he could move, she slammed him against the wall, too, next to Sam. “Angel,” she said evenly. She smiled. “Castiel, I presume?”

“Who are you?” he asked, his deep voice gravelly and thick.

She smiled. “Zoey Crane, the original Cambion.” She gave a sarcastic bow. “Pleased to meet you.”

“How are you alive? How does heaven not know about you?” he growled, struggling against her power.

“Because she hid herself, Cass,” Dean said shortly. “Get us out of here.”

Zoey laughed. “He can’t get you anywhere!” She sighed and smiled at them. “Honestly, gentlemen, I would be a bit nicer to me. I could wipe all of you out here and now.” She let that sink in, watched three pairs of eyes widen in panic, and then released them. “But that’s not what we’re here for.”

Dean stood first, slowly, his hands held up. “What exactly do you want?” he asked warily.

She sighed. “I  _ told _ you. I’m here to help against the archangels.”

Sam frowned. “Why?”

She stared at him. “Because they’re going to destroy the world, Sammy.” A whisper floated across her aura. “I would keep my hands off of that angel sword if I were you, Castiel,” she said softly. “We both know you can’t overpower me.”

Sam was frowning. “It’s Sam.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Sam. Only Dean calls me Sammy.”

She thought on it for a moment, then nodded. “My apologies, Sam.”

“Why would you want to save the world?” Dean asked, his brow furrowed.

She glared at them. “Because the three of you notwithstanding, I happen to rather like the world the way it is.”

At their blank looks, she rolled her eyes. “Look,” she said softly, “I’m not going to pretend that I’m here because it’s ‘the right thing.’ I’m not. I’m here because a lot of people are going to die if I don’t do this, and the rest of the people aren’t going to make it much longer after that.” She met each of their eyes, lingering on Dean’s. “I can help,” she said gently, trying to convince him. Something about him just  _ screamed _ alpha, and it was pretty clear he was leading this pack. “I want to help. You can see how powerful I am, and it’s just been growing since Lucifer has been out of his cage.” She smiled. “I’ll give you three some time to talk. See you in the morning?”

She blinked away, and when she opened her eyes, she was in her apartment again. She sighed and put her face in her hands, groaning a little.

_ What kind of stupid woman would willingly get mixed up with the Winchesters? _

Oh, yes, the Winchesters’ reputation preceded them. Through all of her travels, through everything she’d been through, the Winchesters were like a constant chatter on the supernatural grapevine. They were famous, for God’s sake!

“So what are you doing with them?” she asked herself softly.

_ Mrow? _

She looked over and smiled at Murphy, who hadn’t moved at all when she had appeared in her apartment out of nowhere. Murphy was used to the way Zoey travelled.

She crouched and picked him up, cuddling him to her chest.

“And now, we wait, Murph.”

***

Dean stared at the place that Zoey had been occupying, his brain still trying to catch up. “What the fuck?”

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Do we believe her?”

Cass frowned. “She is a Cambion, an abomination. We can’t trust her.”

Sam shrugged. “I’m an abomination, too. And what choice do we have? It seems like we’re pretty much at her mercy.” He looked at Dean. “How did she catch you?”

“She, ah… Ambushed me. Outside.” Dean did  _ not _ need Sam knowing he had willingly brought a half demon woman into his bedroom.

Sam seemed to take it in stride. “Okay, well, what next?”

Dean thought about it as the two other men looked to him. He thought about a woman with obnoxious hair and bright green eyes that mirrored his own. He thought about her making sure to catch him a little before he hit the wall, and how she had done the same to Castiel and Sam when she had trapped them. He thought about her insisting that she wasn’t a hero, but that she just had common sense.

Dean had always trusted his instincts. He was smart and fast, he was a warrior, and he had learned to recognize one of his own. And maybe her methods were different, and she seemed to have some deep inner peace that he didn’t. But no matter what she said, Zoey Crane was a warrior.

“We wait until morning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here's my notes:  
> I own only Zoey Crane, the original character. I don't own Supernatural or the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Reviews, comments, and kudos give me the warm fuzzies and keep me going.  
> If there are any mistakes in continuity, canon, or geography, blame me.  
> **A couple of things I realized about this fic: 1, it's going to be fast and dirty. This won't be like the longer ones I'm writing, where the OFC's are inserted into the story. Zoey is going to change things right from the get-go. And that means that 2, this story isn't going to be very long. We'll see how long it takes.  
> **The little flashes into Zoey's past are going to continue, too.


	3. I'm Very Persuasive

Dean stepped into the only bar the little town boasted, ready to get good and drunk.

He had made the decision. They would stay, and they would hear the Cambion out. And if he didn’t like what she had to say, he would gank her. He tried not to think about _how_ he would gank her, because he had no fucking idea where to even begin.

He got a shot of whiskey and a beer and found a table in the back to brood at. Sam and Cass were on their way, so he slung a couple more chairs to the table and sat, waiting.

 _This sucks,_ he thought as he downed the whiskey.

They had been looking for a way to kill Lucifer for two weeks now, and nothing. Sam had suggested staying at a motel and actually getting a few hours of rest before they continued, since they were both almost too tired to move.

 _That’s not happening now._ Not with Zoey in the mix

As his eyes wandered, he spotted a choppy pink haircut at a table on the other side of the room, and he scowled.

_Speak of the devil. Well, the half-devil._

He stood, irritated, and made his way to her.

She was sitting at a tall table, her legs dangling off of the barstool. She was facing away from him, silent, a beer in front of her that was seemingly untouched.

He approached until his chest was almost touching her back. “Thought you were going to give us time to talk, Zo.”

She didn’t turn around. “As I recall, _you_ approached _my_ table, Dean. I _was_ giving you time. And don’t call me Zo.”

He scowled again and moved around her to sit next to her. “What are you doing here?”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “First of all, I’m doing whatever I want. Second, when did you buy the bar? I wasn’t aware that you owned it. And third of all…” She thought for a second. “Well, third of all, fuck you.”

He smirked. “Clever.”

She smirked back. “Cleverer than you.”

The song changed, something with a catchy beat and someone wailing into the microphone. He winced. “This is awful,” he griped, temporarily forgetting himself.

She took it in stride and shrugged, her foot kicking along to the tune. “A hundred years gives one perspective on music. At least it’s not yodeling.”

It was his turn to cock an eyebrow. “Yodeling?”

She smiled. “I spent some time in the Alps. I had joined a group of rather cheerful, often very _drunk_ monks. In the evenings, they would yodel to entertain themselves. I almost clawed my ears off.”

He stopped for a second, then found himself tossing his head back and laughing.

When he looked at her again, there was a warm smile on her face. It suited her better than the cynical, bitchy smile she’d let him see before.

He sobered. “Why are you helping us?”

Instead of a snarky answer, which is what he’d expected, she looked at him frankly. “Because you have the best shot at beating the devil, and I know for a fact that I can. I just need you to help me lure him in." She smiled again. “So, really, _you’re_ helping _me.”_

He hmphed and leaned back in his barstool, surveying the crowd. “So what are you really doing here?”

She shrugged. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t bolt. And make sure you didn’t get hurt. You three have made an art out of getting into trouble, and I don’t have time to fuck around with it.”

He smiled. “You know, for someone who talks about there being no need for profanity…”

She batted her eyes. “Am I offending the lady’s delicate ears, Mrs. Winchester?”

For the second time that night, Dean tossed his head back and laughed.

When he calmed down, he looked at her again, and jumped at the sight of the two men standing behind her. “God dammit, Cass!”

Zoey, who hadn’t moved an iota, laughed, the bubbly sound (which did _not_ suit her personality) carrying through the bar.

She turned around and smiled. “Sit, gentlemen. I don’t bite.” She seemed to think for a moment. “Well, not in front of all these people, anyway.”

Sam chuckled and slid into the seat next to Dean. Since the table was round, that left Cass the seat between Sam and Zoey. He eyed her suspiciously as he slowly took the chair.

They sat in companionable silence while Sam and Cass ordered a drink (beer for both, though they knew Cass’s would go untouched, like Zoey’s was).

Once the beer was there, Sam looked at Zoey. “So… Zoey, you, uh, you look good for a hundred and four.”

She smiled. “Yes, one of the perks of being a Cambion is apparently long life.” She twirled  a finger in the air. “Bully for me.”

Sam sat forward eagerly. “You must have seen so much. _Done_ so much.”

Castiel frowned. “I have seen the entirety of human existence.”

Before Dean could, Zoey shook her head. “It’s not the same, Castiel. Being on the ground, living with it, _living_ around humans is much different than just seeing history.” At Sam’s curious look, she gave him a sad smile. “Don’t ask me questions, Sam. History isn’t glamorous. It’s bloody and cruel and terrible. So don’t ask me any questions you don’t _really_ want the answer to.”

There was an awkward silence, then Zoey spoke again.

“Not for nothing, Castiel, but the last time someone looked at me like that, they took me to bed.”

The angel frowned. “The last time someone looked at you with distrust?”

Dean saw something flash in Zoey’s eyes before she smiled. “I’m very persuasive.”

***

The next morning, Castiel sensed the Cambion outside the motel door.

He frowned. Dean and Sam were still asleep, so he teleported from the room to just outside the door.

She didn’t jump, she just looked at him evenly. She smiled and held up a bakery bag and a cardboard drink tray full of coffees. “Good morning, Castiel. I brought breakfast so we don’t have to talk on empty stomachs.”

He stared at her. “You shouldn’t have come. I don’t think the Winchesters want to work with the _Antichrist.”_

She blinked, and Castiel watched her back straighten. It was strange, like she was less of herself now. She was colder, withdrawn. He was not sure how he felt about the change.

“Well, no offense, but I think I’d like to hear Dean say it, if you don’t mind.” There was a beat of silence, then, “You ass.”

He frowned. “I don’t trust you.”

She smiled. “That’s because you’re smart, Castiel.” She took a deep breath and let it out in an explosive gust. “Look, I understand, I do. I wouldn’t trust me in your shoes, either.” She met his eyes, and Castiel could see her real eyes, behind the fake green irises she put up. “But you’re going to have to. I’m your best shot at Lucifer, and you know it. I’m the best way to do it without one of those men in there dying.”

Castiel frowned again. She was correct, but he did not like it. She was half _demon._ She could not be trusted.

He was saved from answering by Dean opening the door, blinking at them. “What the hell are you two doing out here?”

***

Zoey sat at the table in the small motel room, her nose wrinkled. She hadn’t realized how gross it was the night before, and now she felt like she need to take a shower. Possibly in hand sanitizer.

She looked up at the Winchesters, who had just finished eating. She had given Castiel a black coffee, but he just held it. It was more out of good manners than anything that she had gotten it in the first place.

“Have you reached a decision, then? Group effort?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

She was nervous. She _knew_ that she could take Lucifer, she could feel it in her bones. But it would be a hell of a lot easier to _find_ the bastard if she had two of the best hunters on the planet helping her.

Plus an annoying angel with really spectacular blue eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, we have,” Dean said, his mouth still full of food. Zoey wrinkled her nose again in disgust. “We’ll say yes, but I have a condition.”

She frowned. “What condition?”

“You gotta meet Bobby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here's my notes:  
> I own only Zoey Crane, the original character. I don't own Supernatural or the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Reviews, comments, and kudos give me the warm fuzzies and keep me going.  
> If there are any mistakes in continuity, canon, or geography, blame me.  
> **Okay, gotta be honest, I did not see Zoey and Castiel happening. But, and I always feel a little stupid saying this, but sometimes these characters take on a mind of their own. I truly thought she'd get with Dean. But she chose Castiel instead. Go figure.


	4. I Need the Angel for This

Zoey was sitting in the backseat of the Impala, angry as hell.  _ “Why _ can’t I just teleport us there again?”

“Because, Bobby will shoot you,” Dean said from the front.

“That won’t kill me. I can take the chance.”

“They won’t let me do it, either,” Castiel rumbled beside her.

Zoey quelled the shudder that went through her at his voice. “Well, this is ridiculous.”

She snapped her fingers, and Dean yelped and slammed on the brakes as they slid into the driveway of Singer’s Salvage. The hunter turned around and glared at her. “What the fuck was that?”

She shrugged and opened her door. “Well, we’re here now, no use crying over spilt milk.” She gave him a winning smile and got out.

She surveyed the salvage yard, smiling. It had a very… Traditional, American feel to it. She liked it very much.

Castiel came to stand next to her, but he put a fair amount of space between them. She ignored him to watch Sam and Dean get out of the car. Sam was chuckling and Dean was still snarling.

He approached her and got in her face. “Never again, bitch! I almost wrecked the car!”

She rolled her eyes. “I could have fixed it, calm thyself, Winchester.”

“God dammit, Zoey, that was stupid! We could have died!”

That pissed her off. She shoved at his chest, knocking him back several steps. “Fuck you, Dean, we were safe the entire time.”

“She softened our landing,” Castiel said from behind her. “We were in no danger.”

Surprised at the defense, she turned and stared at him for a moment. He looked back, then looked uncomfortable. “Well, you did.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” She turned back to Dean. “So fuck you. Why would I come ask for help and then let you die in something as  _ stupid _ as a car accident?”

“What the hell is going on out here?”

She spun again and saw a gruff man in a wheelchair sitting on the front porch of the house.

Sam came to stand next to her, on the opposite side of Castiel. “This is Zoey, Bobby. She’s… Here to help.”

Zoey put on another winning smile and walked up the steps, her hand held out. “Zoey Crane. It’s an absolute  _ honor _ to meet you.”

Bobby shook her hand and stared at her. “Where did you come from?”

Before she could answer, Castiel spoke from behind her. “Hell. She’s a Cambion, like the boy Jesse Turner was.”

Bobby frowned and pulled his hand away, and she let her features settle into an emotionless mask. “Thought the Turner boy was the only one,” the older hunter said gruffly.

She gave him a cold smile. “I was just luckier, is all.”

***

Zoey sat in the kitchen of Bobby’s house, looking around curiously.  _ The amount of lore in this home alone would put many libraries to shame. _

“Tea?” Bobby asked, still gruff with her.

She smiled. “That would be lovely.”

He set about making it for her, his movements slow and precise. She let her head rest in her hand and watched, her knee bouncing nervously.  _ You’re a half-demon in a house full of hunters and one goddamn angel. You’re an idiot, Zoey, you’re stupid. _

Sam, Dean, and Castiel entered the kitchen. She ignored them, just continued to watch Bobby fill the teakettle.

“So, did you know about Bobby before today? You said it was an honor to meet him.” Sam asked, settling into the seat next to her. Bobby turned to listen.

She smiled and nodded. “Oh, yes. Only in hushed, fearful tones from those who dwell in the darkness with me, I assure you.”

Bobby snorted. “Not much to be afraid of anymore.”

She tilted her head. “Of course there is. You’re Bobby Singer. You’re the thing that monsters tell their little monsters bedtime stories about so they’ll behave.” She smiled. “Although, I hadn’t heard that you were injured.”

“Bobby was possessed by a demon,” Dean said from across the table. “He overpowered it and stabbed himself with a Kurdish demon-killing knife to kill it.”

Bobby snorted again. “Paralyzed myself in the process,” he said bitterly.

Zoey tilted her head again. “That’s extremely impressive.” She let a beat of silence pass, then, “Would you like the use of your legs back, Mr. Singer?”

***

An hour later, after much yelling and discussion and Castiel silently brooding in the corner, Bobby agreed to do it.

“They’re my damn legs!”

“Bobby, this is crazy!” Dean shouted. “We just met this woman! We can’t trust her!”

Hurt, Zoey huffed. “Fuck you, too, Dean.”

Bobby shook his head. “Yeah, fuck you, Dean. Fuck you and your  _ two working legs.” _

With that, he rolled over to where Zoey was sitting at the kitchen table. “Do it.”

She nodded and leaned forward to put her hand on his. “Mr. Singer, I need you to know that this may not work. I’ve never tried this, it’s just a theory right now. It may  _ not _ work.”

“Don’t care. Let’s do this.”

She nodded. “All right.” She looked over at Castiel. “I need the angel for this.”

Castiel frowned. “What?”

She smiled. “Come on, now, this is still too many people for me to bite. Let’s go, let’s see if we can’t get Mr. Singer’s legs back for him.”

Dean and Sam were scowling, arms crossed, and she rolled her eyes as Castiel slowly made his way over to her. “Gentlemen, calm yourselves. Again, if I wanted you dead, you’d be pink slime on the floor before you even knew it.”

Castiel came to stand next to her, and she took a deep breath. “All right, put your hand on Mr. Singer’s shoulder, then give me your other.”

He stared at her. “For what?”

She stood, pushing the chair back, angry. “You know what, I am  _ trying _ to help here! I’m trying to give this man his legs back, and I can’t do it alone. Now, if you really don’t want my help, tell me now. Tell me so I can go fight the fucking devil by myself. And when I go down, I’ll take him down with me, and you remember that I saved your goddamn asses.”

There was a tense silence, and she met each of their eyes. She saved Castiel’s for last, and couldn’t read any emotions in his eyes, which made her even more angry. “Well?” she snapped, holding her hand out.

The angel hesitantly put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder, then took her hand. “What do we do now?”

She sighed. “I suspect, Castiel, that this will hurt you more than it hurts me. Brace yourself.”

She closed her eyes and  _ pushed. _

When the pain started, she kept her face impassive. She had lied to the angel, it would hurt her  _ much _ more than it would hurt him. The power always fought her when she tried something like this, when she tried to push it out of her instead of using it. It was like a wild animal, desperately clawing at her insides to stay with her.

_ No good deed, _ she thought wryly.

“Bobby, do you feel anything?” she asked, distressed to realize that her voice was tight.  _ Keep it together, Zoey. _

“Uh… No, not really. Kinda tingles, though.”

Zoey sighed. “All right.” She opened her eyes to meet Castiel’s confused gaze. “Brace yourself again, big boy,” she said softly, just before she used the hand she was holding to yank him toward her and press her lips to his warm, chapped ones.

***

Castiel felt burning, massive power pour into his mouth where the Cambion kissed him. He grunted, but it was a very light pain, something he could handle.

_ Use it, Castiel, _ he felt her whisper into his mind,  _ I can’t heal him, but you’re purifying my power. I don’t know how to heal him, use the power like you would your own. _

Castiel pushed the power into Bobby, but it moved slowly, sluggishly. Not like his own quick, clever power. This magic wasn’t made for healing, it was made to harm, and it wasn’t used to moving through a body.

Castiel guided it, sending it down to the man’s spine, toward the injury there, struggling against the power’s urge to go back to the Cambion.

As he did, her pain started to seep into him. He didn’t feel it like she did, but he could feel her agony. It was almost impressive that she was still standing. He found that, though he did not trust her, he did not like it that she was in pain.

***

Zoey was struggling to stay conscious, struggling to stay standing. The pain was excruciating, it was all she could focus on. She was very glad that Castiel was taking care of healing Bobby, because she was absolutely certain that she couldn’t have.

In the midst of her agony, she felt a feathering, light presence in her mind. It seemed to be coming from where her mouth was against Castiel’s. Instinctively, she tilted her head and deepened the kiss, moving closer to him at a great cost. She felt his hand slip from hers and settle at the small of her back.

She didn’t know what was happening, but the light presence in her mind was… Not taking the pain  _ away, _ but it was making her care less.

_ It’s my grace, _ she heard his gravelly voice in her head, sounding a little nervous.  _ I can’t take the pain away, but I can make it less urgent. _

She leaned against him, craving both the power and the cool feeling of the angel pressed against her. He tucked her in against his body, his arm like cast iron around her. She sighed as the pain faded into the background, and she was able to focus more on pushing her power into Castiel.

***

Castiel kept Zoey close to him, vaguely aware of the heat radiating off of her. It was oddly comforting.

He found Bobby’s injury, and was able to wrap Zoey’s power around it. He painstakingly reconnected nerves, wrapped tendons around, eradicated the scar tissue, and reshaped the bone.

When it was done, he wrapped his grace around Zoey again.

_ I think this is going to hurt, Zoey. _

***

_ I think this is going to hurt, Zoey. _

When Castiel poured her power back into her, only the kiss they were sharing kept her from screaming. As it was, she did whimper into his mouth a little.

It was like being on  _ fire. _ The power was punishing her, angry at her for using it for other than its intended purpose. It had wanted to hurt, so it hurt her instead. Castiel’s grace helped, but it did not take it away.

When it was all back inside, her body ached fiercely. She stayed against Castiel, but released his mouth and looked up at him. Those striking, really rather hypnotic blue eyes stared into hers, and she smiled a little. She saw the corner of his lips twitch up, as well.

She looked over at Bobby and nodded.

His eyes were wide, and he slowly, gingerly stood. He paled, and he was staring at her.

“Holy fuck,” Dean breathed out. She didn’t waste the energy to look over at him.

“It… It worked,” Sam said softly, awe in his voice.

She looked up at Castiel again, smiling up at him. “I like the way you say my name,” she said softly, just before blackness took her and she passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here's my notes:  
> I don't own Supernatural or the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Reviews, comments, and kudos give me the warm fuzzies and keep me going.  
> If there are any mistakes in continuity, canon, or geography, blame me.  
> **I know, I know, this is the the same half of the last chapter. I just felt like I needed to cut that chapter in two. I'll explain better in the next chapter's notes.


	5. I'll Stay

Castiel watched Zoey slump in his arms, frowning. He bent and scooped her up, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her shoulders. She was limp and unresponsive.   
  
“Holy shit,” Sam said softly, clearly still in shock. “She gave you your legs back.”   
  
Bobby’s eyes were wide as he stood. “Holy shit,” he echoed. He took a step forward, and his eyes bugged out. “Holy  _ shit.” _   
  
“I don’t believe it,” Dean breathed, his own eyes a little wide.   
  
Castiel nodded. “You should be back to complete use of your lower half.” He looked down at the creature in his arms. “Is there somewhere she can rest?”   
  
***   
  
Dean watched with narrowed eyes as Bobby bounded up the stairs, giddy, in front of Castiel, who was much more somber, to show him the guest bedroom. He looked over at Sam. “So?”   
  
Sam, who seemed to still be recovering from shock, looked over at Dean. “So what?”   
  
Dean shrugged. “What do we think? Can we trust her?”   
  
Sam scoffed. “Dean, she just  _ healed _ Bobby. She did what Cass couldn’t. Yeah, I think we can trust her.”   
  
Dean shook his head. “Sam, just because she did us a favor, doesn’t mean she’s on our side. Hell, it might mean she’s  _ not _ on our side, and she’s trying to get us to let our guard down.”   
  
Sam stared at him for a second. “Dean, you saw what it took out of her. As soon as she…” Sam made a face.  _ “Kissed _ Cass, she could barely stand up. Why would she go through that just to get us to ‘let our guard down?’”   
  
Dean shrugged, irritated and restless. “Well, we’ll see.”   
  
***   
  
Castiel placed Zoey on the guest bed gently, frowning at the heat starting to bake off of her. She was silent, but her body was starting to tense.   
  
“Think she’ll be all right?”   
  
Castiel turned to see Bobby staring at her from the doorway. “I am… Not sure,” he answered honestly. “She used her powers through me. I could feel it fighting her, it did not want to pass into me. She was in an intense amount of pain, it’s impressive that she stayed on her feet as long as she did.”   
  
“Why did she need the liplock?” Bobby asked.   
  
For some reason, if Dean had been the one asking, Castiel would have been irritated. Dean tended to mock that kind of interaction, and Castiel felt irrationally protective of Zoey. But the only thing in Bobby’s voice was curiosity and awe.   
  
“I assume she needed a more visceral connection. The power would not come to me before she was… Kissing me.”   
  
Bobby nodded. “Lot of heavy magic requires an exchange of fluids.” The older man heaved a sigh. “I’m gonna go get those idjits to help me try to find a way to kill the devil. You mind keeping an eye on her?”   
  
Castiel had already turned back to watch Zoey. “I’ll stay.”   
  
***   
  
Bobby watched Castiel watch the girl before he turned away.   
  
_ Yeah, I’ll just bet you’ll stay. _   
  
Even if Bobby had been the one whose spine was being restructured (something he was still in shock about), you would have had to be dead to not notice the heat in the kiss the angel and the Cambion had shared.   
  
_ Interesting. _   
  
***   
  
Zoey’s body was on fire again.   
  
Every part of her burned in agony. The only reason she didn’t wish she was dead was because she knew she had a purpose. She couldn’t remember what that purpose was, but she remembered it was important, and she clung to that.   
  
It was the only thing she  _ could _ cling to.   
  
She was alone in the darkness, in the torment, in the hot, burning pain.   
  
***   
  
A full day later, Castiel was still frowning as Zoey writhed on the bed, sweat soaking through the sheets. She had begun perspiring and moving late the night before, and hadn’t stopped since.   
  
Castiel tended to agree with Dean, she was still not to be trusted. It could have been a ploy to make them let her in, and she could still be working with Lucifer. It was a strange, convoluted plan, but a clever one, and Castiel did not intend to be tricked.   
  
But however much he did not trust her, he did not like seeing her in distress. He didn’t know why he had felt compelled to help her as they healed Bobby’s spine, but he felt the same urge now.   
  
The only outward signs of her misery were the sweat soaking the bed, her bordering on violent thrashing, and her hair. While it had been a vibrant pink color, it was now flashing through the entirety of the color spectrum in rapid succession. Castiel saw several colors that even the human eye was incapable of comprehending.   
  
It was a manifestation of her powers, of what her body was going through.   
  
Still with an unsettled feeling, Castiel stood and stepped forward to sit on the bed next to her. He pressed two fingers against her forehead and concentrated on pushing his grace into her.   
  
***   
  
In the midst of her pain, Zoey felt that familiar, feathering presence. She reached for Castiel desperately, but he was too far away, and she was too hot. She was burning up, she couldn’t reach him, she wasn’t going to make it.   
  
Zoey was starting to worry that she was going to die for her kindness.   
  
_ No good deed. _   
  
***   
  
Castiel frowned. He could feel Zoey’s pain, the heat radiating off of her small body, and he could sense that she knew he was there, but couldn’t reach him. He began to worry, she was getting much worse.   
  
_ … a more visceral connection… _   
  
His own words bounced in his mind as he wondered what to do. He shouldn’t care that she was in pain, or that she may not make it out of this. She was a demon, a creature born from hell. This is what happened when such creatures tried to heal instead of harm.   
  
But the urge to comfort her was still there, and it was  _ strong. _   
  
Coming to a decision, he snapped his fingers. His trench coat, suit jacket, and shoes disappeared, leaving him in just a white button-up and slacks. He carefully crawled into bed next to her, then paused, unsure of what to do as he lay beside her.   
  
She solved the problem by starting to thrash again. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, trying to subdue her before she hurt either of them. He pressed her chest to his, and slipped his other arm beneath her head.   
  
She continued to thrash, and his mind latched onto the memory of kissing her. Though he was unsure of himself, he tilted his head down to brush his lips against hers lightly. “Hush, Zoey,” he murmured as he covered her mouth with his, finally able to wrap her in his grace.   
  
***   
  
_ Hush, Zoey. _   
  
Zoey felt Castiel’s grace wrap around her again, and she submitted to it gratefully. It felt like his strong arms were coming around her, keeping the pain and the terrible heat at bay.

When she felt his lips moving against hers, her mouth tilted up into a smile and she kissed him back for all she was worth.

***

Castiel carefully tucked Zoey into his grace, making sure the pain was as far away from her as possible. He ignored the way it made him feel when she burrowed into his power, seeking comfort. He just gave it to her.

He moved his mouth against hers absent-mindedly as he cocooned her in a thick blanket of heaven’s power, trying to shield her from hell’s wrath.  _ Maybe this will let her rest. _

When he was done, he was able to turn his attention back to Zoey.

When he did, he was surprised to find that he had rolled on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with his weight. She had one leg wrapped around his waist, and she was pressing into him, her fingers running through his hair. She was whimpering into his mouth, her hips rolling against his.

He gave a little groan of his own as he pulled away, then rest his forehead against hers. He met her wide, lust blown green eyes. “Zoey, I-”

Her eyes widened more and she moved to bury her face in his neck. “I… I’m sorry, Castiel.”

He frowned. “Sorry? For-”

“Please don’t leave,” she whispered.

He tried to lean back to look at her, but she kept her hot face pressed to his flesh. “Why would I-”

“Please, please don’t leave, I’m sorry, I’ll keep my hands to myself, Castiel, I’m sorry-”

When she started to cry softly, he pulled back enough to press his lips to her forehead. He then feathered kisses across her brow, unsure of what he was doing, following some instinct that was telling him how to comfort her.

“Shh, Zoey, hush, I’ll stay.”

He peppered kisses across her face, hushing her, keeping up his gentle ministrations until she calmed down. He rolled to his side slowly, hooking an arm around her to take her with him. Her small body, still radiating heat, curled around his neatly. He pulled her head to rest on his shoulder, ignoring the dampness of her still rapidly changing hair.

When she finally settled into a real, peaceful sleep, Castiel allowed himself to relax and his mind to wander to ways to find Lucifer.

He didn’t realize that his hand was threading itself through her short hair, combing the colorful locks slowly to soothe her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here's my notes:  
> I don't own Supernatural or the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Reviews, comments, and kudos give me the warm fuzzies and keep me going.  
> If there are any mistakes in continuity, canon, or geography, blame me.  
> **Guys, Zoey is a trifling bitch. She will not do anything I tell her to. She doesn't want long chapters like the rest of my stories, she pretty much just does what she wants. I love her, but she is my problem child.


	6. This is Rather Embarrassing

Zoey woke with several conflicting emotions racing through her.   
  
The first was a bone-deep peace that she had never known before. Not only had she not slept like that in her life, she also couldn’t remember the last time she woke up without being covered in sweat. She had always run hot, and it had gotten worse after puberty. The monks she grew up with had let her sleep outside regularly, so it hadn’t really been a problem until Lucifer had risen.   
  
When that had happened, everything had changed.   
  
Her body had started exuding heat with a passion. During the day she controlled it a little better, but she wasn’t able to at night. As gross as it was, she had woken up damp every morning since the devil had been freed.   
  
But now, she was wrapped up in a cool, firm body, her face pressed against a hard chest, and it was the most comfortable she could remember being in a very long time.   
  
Her eyes popped open.  _ Oh, dear. _   
  
She looked up into striking blue eyes, and felt her heart start to beat faster.  _ Oh, dear. _   
  
He was looking at her seriously. “Are you feeling better?”   
  
She suppressed the shiver that went through her again at the gravelly voice and nodded. “Um, yes, yes I am, thank you,” she whispered.   
  
He nodded. “Good.”   
  
“How long have we been here, like this?” she asked, still whispering.   
  
“You’ve been in bed for two days. I have been in bed for one.”   
  
The blunt way he put it had her smiling. “Very well,” she said softly. “We should probably get out of bed, then.” She wrinkled her nose. “I need a shower, I imagine I smell terrible.”   
  
He shook his head. “You smell fine.”   
  
Her eyes widened, and she became aware again of their position. They were lying facing one another, her head level with his chest. His long legs were tangled with her much shorter ones, his strong arm was around her waist, and she was basically  _ cuddling with an Angel of the Lord. _   
  
“Oh, my,” she said softly, her eyes dropping down to his chest again. She frowned when she saw the dampness on his shirt.  _ Sexy, Zoey, seduce him with your night sweats. _   
  
“This is rather embarrassing,” she said softly.   
  
“Why?”   
  
She smiled and pressed her face back into his chest without thinking about it. “Because, I am one hundred and four years old, and I’m blushing like a schoolgirl because I’m in bed with a man.”   
  
“Well, in all fairness to you, I’m not technically a man,” he said reasonably.   
  
She laughed softly. “Regardless, I should go clean up.” She looked up at his handsome face, smiling a little. “As polite as you’ve been about it, I know I’m sweaty, and I suspect you’re lying about how I smell.”   
  
With that, she transported herself back to her apartment. She landed with a thud on the floor, since she hadn’t been standing when she’d left. She stayed there for a moment, accepting that today was not going to be her day.   
  
_ Mrow? _   
  
She smiled and turned her head so the other cheek was resting on the floor. “Murphy, darling, I have completely humiliated myself in front of a handsome man. What’s new with you?”   
  
_ Mrow. _   
  
She smiled and pulled herself up off of the ground. “Agreed, dear,” she said softly. “Shower and then back to the Winchesters, Mr. Singer, and that bloody angel.”   
  
***   
  
Castiel sat up in the bed Zoey had just vacated and tried to understand the way he was feeling.   
  
Emotions were a strange side-effect of falling from heaven. Things had been much simpler for him before, when he had been a soldier for the Host. He hadn’t questioned orders, he had simply done what he was told.   
  
But meeting the Winchesters, fighting alongside them, had changed all that.   
  
So now, he had to try to understand how he was feeling. It was extremely unsettling.   
  
His first feeling was relief. Relief that Zoey wasn’t going to die, and relief that she was out of the bed and out of his arms. Although she was wrong, she  _ hadn’t _ smelled terrible, it must be uncomfortable for her to be in damp clothes. And her being in his arms brought up other feelings that he wanted to think about even  _ less _ than these.   
  
Such as the second feeling, which was… Disappointment? This one didn’t make sense to him. Surely he wasn’t  _ disappointed _ because she was well? That would be what Sam called “insensitive,” and Castiel found himself not wanting Zoey to think he was insensitive.   
  
Which was strange, because she was a Cambion, and he should not care what she thought of him.   
  
But he found himself caring very much as he snapped his fingers to clean his clothes, put his shoes and coats back on, and unlock the door so he could join the Winchesters again.   
  
Before he could walk out, Zoey reappeared in front of him. Her hair was now an electric blue hue, and she had clearly showered and dressed.   
  
“Castiel,” she said softly, and he frowned. None of the vulnerability that had been in her voice before was there now. Just sarcastic Cambion. “Listen, as much as I enjoyed snuggling up to you while I sweat my brains out, can we keep that between the two of us, please?” She smiled. “I don’t really want to hear the Winchesters mock me for the rest of my days, though they are numbered.”   
  
He stared at her for a moment, another emotion swirling through him. “I won’t tell them.”   
  
Hurt? Was he hurt?  _ Ridiculous. _   
  
***   
  
Zoey saw the hurt flash in his blue eyes, and it set her heart to stuttering again.  _ Get it together, Zoey. _   
  
She turned on her heel and walked out the door without speaking to him about it. Part of her wanted to reach out and comfort him, assure him that she wasn’t necessarily ashamed of him comforting her. Which was ridiculous, because he wasn’t… He was  _ nothing _ to her. He was a means to an end.   
  
The end being dying next to Lucifer.   
  
So even if she did want to… Reassure… The angel, it would be moot. In a few days, she would be dead next to his brother.   
  
_ One night of making sure you didn’t die doesn’t mean anything. You’re a century old, act like it, _ she scolded herself as she walked down the stairs.   
  
She was greeted with the sight of Bobby alone in the kitchen, standing at the counter.   
  
She smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Singer. I hope there were no adverse effects from the healing?”   
  
He turned and shook his head. “No, they’re great. And you gave me the ability to walk again, so you’d better call me Bobby.”   
  
She smiled. “Bobby it is, then.” She looked around. “Where are the Winchesters?”   
  
He shrugged. “Gone. They left last night.”   
  
She felt Castiel’s presence behind her. “Left for where?” he rumbled.   
  
“Dunno.”   
  
Zoey rolled her eyes. “Well, I can find them.” She looked at Bobby, then turned to look at Castiel. “Who wants to come with me?”   
  
“I’ll stay here and hit the books again,” Bobby said, looking at her strangely, “You go track down those idjits.”   
  
Zoey frowned. “What is an ‘idjit?’”   
  
“How can you find them?” Castiel asked from behind her.   
  
She turned to look at him. “You won’t like the answer.”   
  
“I don’t care,” he said evenly, his blue eyes unreadable to her. “Tell me how you can find them.”   
  
She sighed. “Because, Castiel, Sam is the Boy King. I assume most demons can probably sense him on some level, but I can track him.” When he continued to look at her, her eyes narrowed at the accusation in his. “This isn’t my fault, Castiel, I didn’t do it on purpose. He is who he is, and I can sense him, so let’s just go find the bloody idiots before they get themselves killed. Deal?”   
  
He looked at her for another moment, then, “Fine.”   
  
She rolled her eyes and grabbed his big, cold hand, ignoring the little shiver that had nothing to do with temperature that it sent through her. “Good,” she said softly, “we’re going.”   
  
She closed her eyes and searched, but only needed a moment to find them. “Hold on tight, big boy,” she said softly as she transported them to where the Winchesters were.   
  
When she opened her eyes, they were in a motel room. Dean and Sam were on the two beds, facing the room, their hands held up in surrender. Zoey looked over at the two men in ski masks, holding rifles on the Winchesters.   
  
“Spot of trouble, then, gentlemen?” she asked cheerfully, ramping up her accent.   
  
“Who the fuck is this?” one of the masked men snapped.   
  
When he pointed his gun at her, she felt Castiel tense. She kept her grip on his hand and met the man’s eyes evenly. “Oh, my. You know, in my country, it’s considered the height of rudeness to point a gun at someone you just met.”   
  
She flicked a hand and his head twisted to the side hard, with a satisfying crack as his neck broke. He crumpled to the ground, and she watched him dispassionately. “Of course, it’s also considered rude to kill someone without knowing their name, so I don’t know where that leaves us, manners-wise.” She looked up at the other man. “Do you happen to know?”   
  
His eyes were wide under the mask. “What the fuck are you?”   
  
She smiled. “I believe the phrase is, ‘your worst nightmare.’” She flicked her hand again, and he dropped next to his companion.   
  
She turned to the Winchesters and smiled. “Well, I’m glad we got here when we did!”   
  
Sam was wide-eyed. “What the fuck?”   
  
She frowned. “What?”   
  
“You just… You just  _ killed _ those guys!”   
  
She shrugged. “They were going to kill you first.”   
  
Dean nodded and stood. “I, for one, am glad Zo’s here.”   
  
She glared. “Don’t call me ‘Zo.’”   
  
Sam was staring at her, and she wished he would stop. “You can’t just go around killing people, Zoey.”   
  
She sighed. “Sam, this is a war. This is the end. If we’re not brutal and bloody now, it’s going to be brutal and bloody later, and you can bet that if it’s later, you and I won’t be the ones suffering.” She put on a bright smile. “So buck up, and let’s get a move on.”   
  
***

Castiel watched Zoey help the Winchesters pack their things, making disparaging remarks about the beer cans scattered about. He stood in the corner, arms crossed, considering her.

He agreed with her. Brutality was a part of war, and they were definitely in a war. He was just surprised that  _ she _ realized it. He was having trouble reconciling the woman who had begged him to stay with the woman who had killed those men.

He was not having trouble, however, starting to believe that she could beat the devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here's my notes:  
> I own only Zoey Crane, the original character. I don't own Supernatural or the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Reviews, comments, and kudos give me the warm fuzzies and keep me going.  
> If there are any mistakes in continuity, canon, or geography, blame me.


	7. I Do Not Know Why

Zoey sat in the backseat of the Impala again, irritated that Dean wouldn’t let her just teleport them to wherever it was he had a yearning to go to.

“You don’t have to ride with us,” Sam said placatingly from the front seat. She and Dean had been butting heads rather frequently in the last day, and he was continually trying to smooth things over.

”It would be just my bloody luck that as soon as I get you two to let me help, you would go and get yourselves killed,” she snapped, irritated at both of them now. “So yes, I do have to ride with you.”

Sam sighed and turned back around, and she rolled her eyes, leaned her head back, and suppressed the wish that a certain angel were in the backseat with her.

The connection Zoey felt to Castiel was scaring her. She wanted him around all the time, his cool hand in hers, or on the small of her back. She wanted to revisit that bed, when he’d been wrapping her in his grace ad she’d been shamelessly making out with him. She wanted to see those big blue eyes widen in surprise when he realized she was seducing him.

_ Stupid, Zoey, _ she chided herself.  _ You’re a half demon, you don’t get to have relations with angels. _

Before she could continue that thought, she sensed a rather familiar power flare to her right. She sat up and turned to look at it, trying to feel for it again. It had been brief… A celebration.

A celebration from hell.  _ Literally. _

“Stop the car,” she said softly, tapping Dean on the shoulder. “We need to go that way.”

He frowned in the rearview. “Why?”

“Someone call Castiel and tell him to get here, and we need to go that way,” she insisted.

Dean started glaring at her, and Sam had turned around to look at her. “What are you talking about? Why do we need Cass? What’s that way?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to resist the urge to teleport the car to the little town she had felt the power from. “That way is a demon who is going to drag an entire town full of souls into hell. We need Castiel because he will be able to spot a servant of heaven, which we need to kill the bitch.”

Sam blinked, then, “Why can’t you call him? You just have to pray.”

She smiled, a little saddened, even after a century. “Sam, heaven doesn’t hear hell’s prayers. They never have.”

***

When they got to the town, Zoey stayed in the motel room while Sam and Dean met the Whore and the head of the town. Castiel stayed with her, and she tried to studiously ignore the beds in the room. She could think of  _ much _ better uses for them, so she sat at the table instead.

“How did you know she was here?” he asked.

She shivered at his delightful voice, but answered steadily. “I could feel her celebrate something. She probably damned another soul to hell, and got all giddy,” she said bitterly.

Castiel turned to look at her. “How are you going to send her back to hell?”

Zoey smiled widely. “I’m not. I’m going to kill her.”

At that moment, Dean and Sam reappeared. Zoey stood, tense. “Did you meet her? Which one is she?”

Sam shrugged. “Well, the girl, Leah, is claiming to be having visions. Visions of angels telling her what to do.”

Zoey looked at Castiel, who nodded. “Yes, that will be her.”

“All right,” she said to the angel, “Who’s our servant of heaven?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I… I don’t know. I’ll need to meet the people of the town.”

She shook her head. “The Whore will see you for what you are in a heartbeat. Same goes for me.” Zoey sighed. “All right, I have an alternate plan.”

***

Castiel looked at Zoey apprehensively. “What plan?”

“Why can’t one of us kill her?” Dean protested.

Castiel watched Zoey roll her eyes. “Because, Dean, a servant of heaven has to kill the Whore.” Zoey had explained this particular demon to the Winchesters already.

Dean gave Castiel a pointed look, but Zoey protested before he could. “Castiel has fallen, Dean, he no longer serves heaven.” When Dean looked at her, she looked even more irritated.  _ “You _ keep saying no to heaven, so you’re out. And Sam and I, of course, are abominations.”

Castiel frowned, then frowned at himself for frowning. Why didn’t he like that? They  _ were _ abominations.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by Dean.

“All right, Zo, what’s the plan?”

“Don’t call me Zo.”

***

Zoey danced from foot to foot as they waited for the Whore to come out of her home. Dean had knocked, and asked to speak with her privately. After some hemming and hawing, the pastor had agreed, and now they waited.

“This could be dangerous.”

Zoey turned to smile a little at Castiel, who was staring at her with an unidentifiable emotion on his face. His concern made her heart beat a little faster.

“No, it won’t, Castiel,” she said softly, shaking her head. “I can beat her. I know I can. I just didn’t want to alert her to my presence until absolutely necessary.”

Sam, on the other side of her, asked, “Why?”

She turned to look at him. “Because I was worried she’d alert the people in town. I can protect myself from pretty much any demonic or angelic power, but I don’t know about bullets. I’ve never tried to stop a bullet, and I’d like to never have to test the theory.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“What makes you think you can defeat the Whore?” Castiel asked, and she turned back to him, starting to get dizzy from all the turning.

“Because I can,” she said simply. “Castiel, you know more than anyone how powerful I am.” She took a deep breath. “No, she cannot beat me. I will win.”

When the door opened, Zoey tensed, her body thrumming with energy.  _ I have a plan, I can do this. _

Unfortunately, the plan was ruined because as soon as the demon stepped outside, her eyes landed on Castiel. 

The Whore snarled.  _ “Angel.” _ She held her hand out towards Castiel, and Zoey sensed power gathering there.

_ Shit. _ Zoey quickly moved to stand in front of the angel and met the Whore’s eyes. “Gotcha,” she snarked, then held her own hand out and  _ wrapped. _

The Whore’s scream was silenced by Zoey’s demonic power, and Zoey swathed the demon in several layers of it. She then closed her eyes and concentrated on opening a hole. There was a soft whirring sound, and when Zoey opened her eyes, there was a rather crooked circle opened in the air. A circle that opened into nothing. She quickly pulled the Whore into the air, then shoved her into the hole, ignoring her screeches and fighting. Zoey then closed her eyes and concentrated on closing that same hole.

All in all, it took about twenty seconds, but Zoey felt exhilarated. She laughed out loud, tossing her head back. She turned to smile at the three men around her, but they were all staring at her with varying degrees of disbelief on their faces.

She frowned. “What? She’s taken care of.”

“What the  _ fuck _ was that?” Dean snapped.

“Essentially a pocket dimension,” she said easily. “I just kind of… Put her elsewhere.”

“Where?”

She shrugged. “Don’t really know. The in between? The abyss? Whatever you’d like to call it. It’s bad in there, and that’s just what she deserves.”

Sam frowned. “What happened to ‘war is brutal?’ I thought you were going to kill her.”

“What part of ‘servant of heaven’ didn’t you understand, Sam?” she asked, getting miffed now. “We can’t kill her. So I shoved her into the in between, and from what I’m given to understand, it’s pretty damn brutal in there.”

Before she could protest again, Castiel came forward, put a hand on her arm, and teleported them away from the Winchesters.

When Zoey opened her eyes, they were in the room she’d slept in at Bobby’s. She frowned. “Castiel, what are-”

Before she could finish her thought, his hands were on her hips and he was pushing her against the wall. She gasped, and he used the advantage to kiss her hard. It took only a moment before Zoey caught up. When she did, she went on tiptoe and kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his neck. She whimpered and opened when his tongue ran across her bottom lip, and he swept into her mouth, tasting and owning her all at the same time.

He pulled away quickly, breathing hard, staring down at her. She stared right back, and her breathing was a bit fast, itself.

She smiled. “You’re rather good at that, Castiel.”

He frowned. “I do not know why.”

***

Castiel teleported them back to the Winchesters once he let Zoey go, still unsure of why he’d done what he’d done. He let Zoey make up a flimsy excuse as to where they’d gone, since he had no idea what to say. And because the Winchesters were intimidated by her now, he had his suspicions that they wouldn’t question her.

He couldn’t tell her why he’d done that, why he’d taken her away to kiss her. He couldn’t explain it to himself, much less to her.

What he did know is that, far from being intimidated by her blatant display of power, Castiel had been… Intrigued? No, that didn’t quite cover it. Intrigued wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the compulsion that had overcome him.

Wildly aroused probably did a better job of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, beautiful readers! Here are my notes:  
> I own only Zoey Crane, the original character. I don’t own Supernatural or any of the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Reviews, comments, and kudos give me life and keep me going.  
> And, as always, thank you for reading, you beautiful, beautiful people.  
> **We're gonna have to go down to weekly updates for a while, guys, I'm sorry. I'm in the nonprofit world, specifically animal welfare, and this is both a slow season (which means harried fundraising), and a busy season (lots of little furry ones left out in deadly cold weather), so my life has exploded. <3 I love you guys, as soon as things slow down, we're back to every few days, I promise.  
> **I don't know what's up with Zoey, guys, she constantly confounds me. She just... Really wants to make out with Castiel. Like, a lot.


	8. May I Try Something?

_ Many years ago… _

Zoey walked casually as the man who she had refused in the bar walked behind her. He thought he was being silent, which would have amused her if she hadn’t been so irritated.  


_ Bloody men. _   


She turned down an alley, her ire growing.  _ I do not have time for this… But the power  _ does _ need to feed… _   


It was a dead end, and she smiled, then pulled her lips into a frightened frown and turned around. “Are… Are you following me?” She asked, letting her voice tremble. She let her voice stay in her American accent.  _ I need to practice anyway. _   


He smiled ferally, and she restrained herself from rolling her eyes.  _ Idiot. _ Her power snapped at her, wanting to kill the man who dare threaten her. Who thought he had the right to  _ harm _ her.   


“I just wanna show you a good time, doll,” he said with a smile, holding his hands up. “You just need a little convincing.”  


Zoey’s blood ran cold.  _ He wants to rape me. _ She pitched her voice higher. “Pl…  _ Please, _ I just want to go home.”   


“Hey, baby, you can do home as soon as we’re done here.”  


_ Almost close enough. Come on, big boy. _   


“Please!”  


He grabbed her arm and she dropped the act. She shoved her other hand into his stomach, then shifted up to his heart. She felt his pain and his fear, so much it made him unable to speak, and the demonic energy fed on it greedily. She grinned at the feeling.  


Zoey tilted her head to the side. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to have fun anymore, dear?”  


His eyes bugged out of his head when she squeezed his heart.  


“Wha… Wha…” He choked, struggling feebly.  


She smiled. “Why, I’m having a  _ grand _ old time.”

She crushed his heart in her fist, watched the life drain from his eyes, then dropped him. She wiped her hand on her coat, though there was no blood on it. The man didn’t have a mark on him. Experience had told her that it would be ruled a “cardiac event.”  


“Bloody humans.”  


***  


“Why in the  _ fuck _ would we do that?!”   


Zoey rolled her eyes as Dean shouted, getting irritated now. “Because, while you two want to tiptoe around the issue, we should be hunting the bloody  _ devil.” _ She looked over to Sam, hoping to appeal to his common sense before this became an actual argument. “Please, Sam, this is ridiculous. Why aren’t we taking the fight to Lucifer? Why don’t we just go  _ kill him?” _   


“Don’t try to get Sam to get you out of this,” Dean snapped, bringing her attention back to him.  


She stood, her temper snarling at her. “Look, Dean, I don’t particularly want to shout at you.”  _ Because I might accidentally kill you. _ “Why don’t we sit down and just  _ talk _ to one another?”   


She had been right. Dean  _ was _ the alpha, and when he had dug his heels in, the entire process had come to a halt.  _ Bloody men. _   


“No, let’s just think for a second!”  


She groaned and took a step forward, holding her hands up in surrender, ignoring the way the demonic energy howled at her for it. “What would you like to think about?”  


“We can’t summon a fucking archangel here!”  


She ran her hands through her hair, knowing it was making it look crazy and not caring. “I’m not suggesting we summons  _ Lucifer _ , idiot. Just Gabriel!”   


“We just don’t understand why,” Sam said, hands held up and shooting Dean a look.  


“Because he’ll be able to give us a better idea of Lucifer’s weaknesses. And I need to know for sure I can defeat an archangel. I’ve never gone up against anything with that much power, I’m almost certain I can defeat him, but it’s still only almost.”  


Dean shook his head. “It’s crazy, and it’s stupid, and we’re  _ not doing it.” _   


She glared at him, taking another step forward. “It don’t need your permission, Winchester.”  


He stepped forward, too, until they were almost nose-to-nose. “You damn sure do.”  


Anger flared in her, and she controlled the power that wanted to lash out at him, but it was hard. She stared up into his stubborn eyes. “First of all, Dean, I’m not intimidated by you. Second, I’d advise that you take a step back.” He glared down at her, not backing down, and she fought the power that wanted to hurt him, that wanted to hurt him for  _ defying _ her.   


“Dean,” she said softly, letting her eyes fall closed. “Dean, my powers are much harder to rein in since Lucifer got out of the cage. I  _ need _ you to back away, or I cannot promise you won’t get hurt.”   


“What?” Sam’s nervous voice had the power trying to turn to him, eager to feed on his fear. The power was like a rabid animal, feeding on weakness.  _ Oh, Gods, this happened fast. I haven’t fed it enough, fuck. _   


“The two of you need to leave.  _ Now.” Fuck. Too fast, too sudden. _   


“What? What do you need? What can we do?”  


Dean was still close, and she felt her lip lift in a snarl. “Dean,  _ go, _ I don’t know if I can control it.”   


“What is happening?”  


Castiel’s abrupt voice made her heart flutter, and she felt her power pulse.  


“What did you do to Zoey?”  


“Castiel, get them out of here. I can’t control it.”  


“Cass, what do we do?” Sam’s fear made her power pulse and writhe again, and she really started to struggle.  


“Castiel,  _ please,” _ she said softly.   


She felt Dean retreat, and she felt grateful that he would be out of harm’s way.  _ Now I have to figure out how to get away from here. _ She wasn’t sure transporting would be safe with her power while it was reacting with this level of volatility.   


Then she felt a big, cold hand on her face. She opened her eyes to look up at him, wondering if the glamour she kept on her irises was still up. She gazed into Castiel’s blue eyes, trying to let the serenity there soothe her racing heart.  


“What can I do?” He asked, his gravelly voice going further to help her get a handle on her power. She was still fighting it hard, but he made her feel like she could do it.  


“I don’t know,” she whispered. She was vaguely aware of the Winchesters still in the room, but they were in the background, unimportant.  


“May I try something?” He asked softly.  


She swallowed hard. “Can you guarantee the people around us will be safe?”  


He thought for a moment, then looked at the Winchesters. “Pour a salt circle,” he ordered sharply. “Around us, then another line around the room.”

She closed her eyes and fought her power, which was battering at her defenses. The apprehension and fear in the room was driving it  _ crazy. _   


His cold thumb running along her cheekbone had her leaning into his touch. “Stay with me, Zoey, a few more moments.” She nodded, keeping her eyes closed.  


“All right, Cass, we’re done,” Dean said gruffly. The nervous energy of his voice made her flare. She gasped and felt her back bend back with the effort it took to fight it back.  


Castiel’s cold, hard arm wrapped around her waist, then his other hand gently touched her face again and guided her up to him. “They’re safe, Zoey. I’m going to try to wrap your energy in my grace. I don’t know if this is going to work.”  


“Castiel,” she said softly, “If it doesn’t, get Sam and Dean out of here. Understand me? Because I can’t control it, and it will need to kill someone soon.” She opened her eyes to look up at him. “You, too. I can’t imagine what it would do if it got hold of you.”  _ And, for some unfathomable reason, the thought of you dying upsets me greatly. _   


He nodded. “Very well.”  


His hand moved to cup her head with his fingers, his thumb resting under her jaw. He tilted her face up, looked into her eyes for a moment, then bent his head to kiss her softly. She sighed and leaned into him, bringing her hands up to rest on his chest. She kissed him back, letting him take the lead, concentrating on keeping her raging power at bay.  


There were a few, lovely, long moments with his cool lips moving on hers. She felt his arm tighten around her, so she leaned into him and came up on her toes, just a bit, in response. She whimpered low in her throat, and the responding growl in his chest made her toes curl.  


_ You’re all right now, Zoey, _ he whispered in her mind.  _ You can let go. I’ve got you. _   


Tears pricked her eyes.  _ Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt any of you. _   


_ Yes. _   


She hesitated for a moment, then let it go.  


The demonic power raged and beat at the barrier of the angel’s grace. It spun and speared and hammered at it all around them, but Castiel’s embrace kept her safe from it. For the first time in possibly forever, Zoey felt protected.  


She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed into his mouth. He swept his tongue into hers, invading her mouth and lifting her off the ground just a little. She shivered and kissed him back, the soft slide of their tongues against one another enchanting her. Her world narrowed to where they were connected as she lifted her legs and wrapped them tight around his waist. His hands moved quickly to palm her ass, giving her freedom to run her fingers through his thick black hair.  


She didn’t even hear her power trail off to a whimper.  


***  


Dean raised his eyebrows, completely blown away.  


_ Go Cass. _   


Zoey was hot, in a mean, “I can definitely kill you,” British sort of way. And the way they were sucking face would have made Dean blush, if anything still had the power to make him blush.  _ Good for Cass. _   


“Should we, uh, interrupt?” Sam asked, his eyes glued to the couple.  


“I don’t know,” Dean whispered back. “How do we know when it’s done?”  


Sam shook his head. “I don’t know.”  


***  


Zoey felt like she was in Castiel’s arms forever, but it was probably closer to just a few minutes.  


When they broke apart, he pressed his forehead to hers. She was pleased to hear his ragged breathing, which matched hers. She smiled tremulously at him, and her heart warmed when he smiled a little back.  


“Incidentally,” he said softly, “You’re right. We should summon Gabriel.”  


She outright grinned. “I knew it.”  


“Fuck.” Dean’s muttered curse made her laugh out loud.

Zoey decided  _ not _ to mention to the Winchesters that, this time, the kiss had been completely unnecessary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, beautiful readers! Here are my notes:  
> I own only Zoey Crane, the original character. I don’t own Supernatural or any of the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Reviews, comments, and kudos give me life and keep me going.  
> And, as always, thank you for reading, you beautiful, beautiful people.  
> **Okay, so first of all, Zoey is hardcore speaking to me, which is why I have this update again so soon. I doubt that will keep up, lol.  
> **Second of all, APPARENTLY, all we're gonna do is MAKE OUT WITH CASTIEL RANDOMLY ALL THE TIME. Guys, I cannot impress how little control I have over what Zoey does. Jeeze.


	9. I Don't Want That Responsibility

Zoey strode toward the bar, power thrumming beneath her skin. Despite Castiel’s management of it, it was still writhing to hurt someone. It wanted pain and fear, and she was going to get it.

“You didn’t have to come,” she said softly. “This isn’t going to be pretty.”

“You will be safer if I am here,” Castiel said beside her, keeping up effortlessly.

She chuckled. “Castiel, you more than anyone know how powerful I am. I don’t need to be protected.   


His brow furrowed, then abruptly cleared. “There.”

She whipped around to follow his gaze. Her eyes landed on a man who was leaned against the bar, speaking to a woman who looked much younger than him. Zoey frowned. “Why him?”

“He killed his wife for the insurance money, and is now having inappropriate thoughts about his teenage daughter. That isn’t her, but his preference has been running younger and younger lately.”

Zoey saw red. “That’s all I need, then.”

***

Castiel watched her stalk toward the man. He sent an urge toward the young woman speaking with Zoey’s soon-to-be victim. She walked away quickly, and the man frowned.

Words were exchanged, and the man followed Zoey into the alley. Castiel teleported from where he stood to the back of the alley, in the shadows. Though the chances were low, he wanted to be there, waiting for Zoey, in case she needed him.

She did not.

He couldn’t focus on the words she was saying to lure the man further out of sight. He found himself entranced by the way she moved, the lilt in her voice, and the way her power had begun pulsing and flaring lazily. As if it knew it was about to get what it wanted.

He saw the fear on the man’s face as she drove her hand into his chest. She was murmuring, and the man writhed for a moment before Castiel saw her elegant arm flex and the man’s struggles stilled.

She dropped him, wiped her hand on her coat, and walked back to Castiel with a smile. “That… Was delightful,” she purred.

He noticed that her hips were rolling more as she walked, and that her power was lapping outward, like a big, satisfied cat.  _ Clear your head, _ he told himself firmly.  _ You were a soldier of the Host, you have more self control than this. _

Despite his words to himself, he found himself bending to meet her lips as she approached. She went on tiptoe, her small,  hot hands on his chest making it hard to think. This kiss was brief, but when she went back down, her pupils were wide. He observed the fact with no small amount of satisfaction.

“Shall we go back?” she asked breathily.

***

“All right, this will work?”   


Castiel nodded at Dean’s question. “Yes. It is a very old ritual, but it will summon him.”

“And then what? Zoey tries to kill him?” Sam asked, his arms crossed.

“No, she doesn’t,” Zoey said, coming to stand next to Castiel. He tried to ignore how the heat baking off of her affected his thought processes to listen to her words. “First, I’m going to try to contain him. Let’s start small, and we’ll go from there.”

Castiel looked down at her. “Are you sure you want to attempt this? He may be able to kill you before you’re able to control him.”

She nodded firmly. “Yes. This is the only way. Think of it as a practice run.”  
  
“I still think this is a bad idea,” Dean grumbled.   
  
“And I still don’t care,” Zoey replied sweetly.   
  
***   
  
Zoey was almost dancing in anticipation. It was a rare moment when she got to use her powers like this.  _ I may even have to use them to their full extent, _ she thought giddily.   
  
Zoey’s life, since she was very, very young, had been about  _ control. _   
  
***   
  
Being a Cambion offered natural defense against detection through childhood. So when Zoey’s birth mother (who Zoey never found, and still didn’t want to) left her at the bottom of the staircase in front of a monastery, she had been safe from demons and angels alike.   
  
She had not, however, been safe from the cold, and her story had almost ended then and there.   
  
But a monk whom she came to call Father Thomas had noticed and saved the baby girl he found at the bottom of the steps.   
  
He also, because of the deep connection he had to the universe, recognized her immense power. So in that moment, Father Thomas decided to raise her, because  _ he _ had pure intentions, and could only trust himself with such a precious, powerful child.   
  
Zoey’s childhood was not…  _ Normal. _ She meditated rather than played, read rather than ran, learned martial arts and intense yoga rather than played with toys. Not traditional, but it kept her safe. Father Thomas helped her learn her powers, and taught her to control them.   
  
He had also loved her deeply, and she him.   
  
When Zoey was in her mid-thirties, Father Thomas had fallen very, very ill.   
  
***   
  
_ She was there the instant she heard about it. _ __  
__  
_ She appeared at once in the dark, dank room. It smelled of sickness and sweat. _ __  
__  
No, _ she thought to herself,  _ it smells like death. __  
__  
_ There was a young man kneeling beside her Father’s bed, and he started when she materialized. Father Thomas did not. He joked that he was always expecting Zoey, and was therefore never surprised when she appeared. _ __  
__  
_ Her eyes welled at the sight of him. In health, he was a big man, with a round belly and a happy demeanor. He was, she always thought privately, the epitome of what a monk should be. _ __  
__  
_ Now, he seemed shrunken and small. She walked carefully to the bed, shooing the younger man away, and knelt next to her Father, taking his big, hot hand in hers. _ __  
__  
_ “Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered, struggling to contain her emotions. “I could have stayed the disease, I could have saved you.” _ __  
__  
_ He smiled and squeezed her hand lightly. “Hush, child,” he rasped. “I know you could have. That is why I forbade them to summon you.” _ __  
__  
_ She frowned, and the tears she’d been holding in won the battle as they fell down her cheeks. “Father, please-“ _ __  
__  
_ “Hush, child,” he said again gently. “I am old, I have lived the life I was meant to. One day more than I was given naturally would be greedy.” _ __  
__  
_ She sniffled. “The world needs men like you, though.” _ __  
__  
_ He patted her hand. “No, child, now the world has you.” _ __  
__  
_ She shook her head. “Father Thomas, you know what I am. I am, quite literally, hellspawn. I am not a credit to the universe, I am a detractor.” _ __  
__  
_ He stared at her for a long moment. “My child, you cannot possibly believe that.” _ __  
__  
_ She blinked, but said nothing. She  _ did _ believe it. _ __  
__  
_ He smiled. “Zoey, dearest, you are not a detractor. You will save people. You are a good woman, a woman I am proud to call daughter. You will save the world, I believe it with all my heart.” _ __  
__  
_ She let a beat of silence pass, then, “What if I do not believe the world deserves to be saved?” she whispered. _ __  
__  
_ Zoey had seen a lot of bad. Her power fed on fear and violence, and it was a well-fed creature, indeed. War, strife, famine, she had seen it all, let her power absorb the suffering and make her stronger for it. _ __  
__  
_ Zoey Crane did not believe the world deserved to be saved. _ __  
__  
_ Father Thomas’s hand grasped her with more strength than he’d shown the few minutes she had been with him. “Zoey,” he said urgently, “I believe the world is a bad place full of good people. You  _ must _ believe the same. You  _ must. _ Lives, so many lives, will someday depend on you believing that.” _ __  
__  
_ Tears welled in her eyes again. “I don’t want that responsibility,” she whispered desperately. _ __  
__  
_ He cupped her face with one hand and she tilted her head into it. “I know you don’t, child, but you have it. I know you think your powers are evil, and that they make you evil. But what we are given does not tell us who we are. We tell us who we are. You will make the choice to be good or evil. And I believe that you will make the right choice.” _ __  
__  
_ She just smiled at his belief in her. _ __  
__  
_ Father Thomas died two days later, in bed, in his weeping daughter’s arms. _ __  
  
***   
  
Her father’s belief in her made Zoey who she was.   
  
She began to seek out those who would harm others, and dealt them harm instead. Father Thomas would not have liked her methods, but it kept her power happy and sated. And Zoey had never held much belief in the “do no harm” nonsense her Father had spouted her whole life.   
  
Some people needed to be harmed.   
  
And she was the perfect catalyst for it.   
  
***   
  
“Is everything ready?” she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.   
  
Castiel looked around, and she took a moment to admire his strong profile before he turned to look back at her. “Yes. I believe we are as prepared as we are going to get.”   
  
She grinned ferally. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, beautiful readers! Here are my notes:  
> I own only Zoey Crane, the original character. I don’t own Supernatural or any of the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Reviews, comments, and kudos give me life and keep me going.  
> And, as always, thank you for reading, you beautiful, beautiful people.


	10. I've Seen Better

Light flashed as the symbols were completed on the floor of the motel room. The power humming in the air made Zoey dizzy, made her smile in anticipation. Not even the nervous energy of the two men and one angel standing around her could bring her down.

“All right,” she said softly. “Let’s do this.”

She started chanting in Latin, letting her demonic power soak into the words. Only decades of practice kept the smile off of her face.

The room started to shake and shudder. Zoey cautiously put a gentle ward in front of the Winchesters where they stood across the room. It was possible the archangel would be a bit peeved they were summoning him, and she didn’t want them to get hurt.

She didn’t ward Castiel. She stood directly in front of him. Anything that wanted to hurt him would have to go through her.

And Zoey planned on being  _ very _ hard to get through.

A huge burst of light and sound crashed through the room, and everyone but Zoey had to turn away. The light had never bothered her eyes.

When the light faded, she examined the man in front of her closely. Shaggy brown hair, laughing hazel eyes, a mouth that was curved into what was probably a permanent smirk.

The answering smirk on her own lips felt very natural.

“You rang?” he asked jauntily.

When he moved to take a step forward, Zoey sent her power out to contain him. She was damn near cocky in her certainty that she could do it.

So when she met resistance, she almost wasn’t prepared for it. Frowning, she pushed harder, then even harder.

“Zoey?”

Castiel’s deep voice centered her a bit, and she was better able to hold the archangel in place.

“Having some trouble, dearest?”

She blinked, then glared at Gabriel. “Hush, I’m concentrating.”

His smirk grew. “Well, at least I’m fun to look at.”

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. “I’ve seen better,” she shot back casually, her mind on the tall blue-eyed angel behind her.

Gabriel winked. “Bet you haven’t.”

Zoey chose to ignore that. She was still struggling to hold him there.

“Zoey, what’s going on?” Dean snapped.

“It’s… A bit more difficult than I anticipated,” she admitted.

“Well, you can still hold him though, right?” Sam asked nervously.

“Ha! Barely,” Gabriel sneered.

“Great!” Dean snarled. “So our great secret weapon is gone. If you can hardly keep him here, then how the fuck-”

“Shut up, Dean,” Zoey cut him off before he gave away  _ everything. _ “I can do this, just shut up.”

“Sweetheart,” Gabriel chuckled, “If you wanted to tie me down, you just had to ask.”

She cocked an eyebrow, unable to resist the bait. “Isn’t the point of tying you down that I don’t have to ask?”

“Safewords are key, sweetheart.”

“Listen, flyboy, if you were with me, you wouldn’t need to use the safeword.”

Zoey was smiling, but she was starting to get worried. Her control was slipping, and the way his eyes were sparkling told her that Gabriel knew it, too.

“Is all this talking helping you?” Castiel snapped, irritation coloring his tone.

Zoey blinked. “No, it’s just what’s expected when one is facing an enemy. This is just what happens before I destroy him.” Gabriel snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Well, it’s… Annoying,” Castiel said coldly. “And I do not believe it to be productive.”

_ He’s jealous, _ she realized. Warmth spread through her chest.  _ He’s jealous because he thinks I’m serious about flirting with Gabriel. _ Zoey was absolutely  _ not _ serious about it. The only angel on her mind in any sort of flirtatious way was standing behind her.

While she was thinking about Castiel, Gabriel must have realized what was going on, too. His smile widened. “Well, well, well, look at you, little brother, getting-”

_ Oh, no, _ she thought desperately.

Castiel brought out something very protective in Zoey. He was old, much older than she, but there was a sense of innocence about him that made her want to shield him, to make sure nothing ever hurt him.

She knew the Winchesters already suspected that Castiel and Zoey’s connection wasn’t platonic. But they cared enough about the angel not to say anything, not to bring it up or mock it. Gabriel would feel no such compunction, she was sure. He would pick at it, because he was angry, and because he was scared. Zoey could see the fear in his angelic aura, he was  _ furious _ with them for bringing him there.

So now, now that he realized that Castiel had feelings for Zoey, he would use it against him.

And that upset Zoey.

_ No, _ she thought coldly, her power pulsing fiercely.  _ No talking for you, you bloody archangel. _

Gabriel opened his mouth, and for a moment, Zoey was too busy trying to figure out a way to block the sound in the room to realize that he wasn’t actually speaking.

When she did, the frustrated look on his face told her that he  _ couldn’t _ speak.

“I did it,” she breathed out, her eyes widening. “I did it. I can contain him.”

Gabriel’s face darkened, and he took a step toward her. She frowned and shifted to completely block Castiel again.  _ Stay where you are, _ she thought firmly.

The archangel froze, fury burning in his eyes.

_ I have to be protecting someone, _ she thought with wonder.  _ It only works if I’m protecting someone. _

She frowned.  _ It’s demonic power, that makes no sense. Why would it care if I’m protecting someone? _

Father Thomas’s words floated through her mind. The words he’d spoken to her on the last day of his life.

_... What we are given does not tell us who we are… _

_ … You will make the choice to be good or evil. And I believe that you will make the right choice. _

Her powers didn’t care what she was doing,  _ she _ did. Zoey cared. She cared about Castiel, and to protect him, she overpowered Gabriel.

_ Well, I didn’t see that coming. _

She smiled at the archangel. “You may speak and move now,” she said softly. “I have what I need.”

“This is about Lucifer, I assume,” he said dryly.

Silence reigned.

Gabriel snorted. “It’s never gonna work. He’s too powerful.”

Zoey opened her mouth to respond, but Castiel was there first. “Not as powerful as Zoey.”

Gabriel’s eyes flicked to his brother standing behind her, then met Zoey’s again. “You can barely hold me here, much less kill me. How you gonna kill  _ him?” _

She shrugged. “I don’t intend to kill him.”

Gabriel blinked. “What? Then what do you intend to do with him?”

“Throw him back in the cage.”

The archangel was outright staring at her now. “What makes you think the cage is still there?”

Dean snorted, reminding Zoey that she was not, in fact, alone with the two angels. “What did it do, just disappear when he was set free? It’s there, all right.”

“How do you plan on opening it?” Gabriel asked softly.

“I plan to rip a piece of it off, shove him inside, and put the piece back on.”

Gabriel seemed to think about that for a while, then, “What if I told you there was an easier way?”

***

“Rings of the horsemen,” Dean said wonderingly.

“I mean, do you think it can work?” Sam asked Zoey.

Castiel watched her think about it, then nod. “Yes,” she said firmly. “Yes, I think it will work just fine.”

The Winchesters started talking again, and Zoey wandered out of Bobby’s kitchen. Castiel followed her helplessly, unable to resist her pull.

He knew what had happened in the motel room. When Gabriel had been coming for Castiel, even if it was just verbally, her powers had been able to contain the archangel in an effort to protect Castiel. It made his heart beat faster, and it was unlike anything he’d experienced since falling from grace, or possibly ever.

She was perusing one of the bookshelves when he came in. Without hesitation, and without putting much thought into it, Castiel grabbed her elbow and gently turned her around.

She went willingly, and smiled up at him. “What can I do for you, Castiel?”

Instead of responding, he gently took her face into his hands, noting with interest the way his palms nearly engulfed her pretty cheeks.  _ She’s so small. _

He took in every detail. Her vibrant orange hair, changed colors just a few hours ago. The green glamour she kept up on her wide eyes, the real color of her eyes beneath it. Her pretty mouth, dropped open just a little as she examined him with the same intensity that he did her.

Again, without putting much thought into it, he bent and took her mouth with his.

It was unlike the rest of the kisses they had shared. It wasn’t intense, or lust-fueled, or burning like a firecracker. The way her lips moved on his now was… Gentle. He took her mouth softly, passionately. It was sweet. It wasn’t about how much he wanted her, it was about how much she meant to him.

They kissed in the living room for a long time, until they came up for air and he realized they had moved to the couch, sitting next to one another, gently exploring one another. Her soft, small, hot hand rested on his chest. His rested on her knee.

This hadn’t been about sex. This had been about the budding feelings between them.

He pressed his forehead to hers.  _ I think I may be in trouble here. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, beautiful readers! Here are my notes:  
> I own only Zoey Crane, the original character. I don’t own Supernatural or any of the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Reviews, comments, and kudos give me life and keep me going.  
> And, as always, thank you for reading, you beautiful, beautiful people.  
> **Just a couple more chapters of Zoey's story. I'm gonna miss her like crazy, even if she is my trouble child.


	11. What Say You, Castiel?

The next morning, Zoey went to where Pestilence was to retrieve his ring. It was ridiculously easy, and she very much enjoyed causing him _extensive_ pain before she killed him.

***

Zoey approached a small bakery in Kansas City, Missouri. The Winchesters and Bobby had been worried about how to find him, but as soon as she opened her senses to it, she had located him immediately.

Castiel had wanted to go with her, but she had gently suggested that he stay with the humans to protect them. She’d figured that it probably wouldn’t be prudent to say, “Death can probably squish you like a bug, darling, and I don’t know if I will be able to stop him.”

So now she stood in front of the brightly colored bakery which Death currently occupied, mostly confident in her mission, partially worried she was minutes away from being smote.

_Well, here goes nothing._

A happy little bell sounded when she opened the door. It was the only cheerful thing about the place. There was a dead girl behind the counter, and a dead couple in the corner. They didn’t bother her. Casualties happened in war.

What bothered her was the man in the second booth to the right. He was tall, with slicked back dark hair. His features were sharp, avian, and he had dark, terrible eyes.

Zoey took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. If he was going to kill her, he would kill her. She would join the casualties of this war without flinching. She had too much pride to flinch.

“Join me, Ms. Crane,” his dry voice intoned. “I have no desire to end your life.”

She walked quickly to the booth and slid into the opposite side. “Do you know what I’m here for?”

Death was eating what looked like a huge slice of blueberry pie, and didn’t look up. “I do.” A beat of silence. “What I don’t know, however, is why.”

Zoey frowned. “Do you care why?”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin fastidiously. “Not particularly. I’m inclined to give you what you want anyway. But I find myself very curious as to _why.”_ He looked at her evenly. “Why do _you_ want to save the world, Zoey Crane?”

“Because I live in it,” she said simply. It was the same answer she gave the Winchesters, and it was mostly true.

Death, however, cocked an eyebrow at her. Apparently, he wasn’t buying it.

She decided, again, to be more honest than she had in a very long time. “Because the man who raised me believed that, when it came down to it, I would choose the side of right. I don’t know if this is what he meant, but…” She took a deep breath. “I can’t let his belief be in vain. He’s gone, but… He knew I could be good, despite my origin. So I can’t let him down.”

He stared at her for a long time before he took his ring off and slid it across the table to her.

***

“All right,” Dean said slowly, wiping a hand down his mouth. “We’ve got all four.”

Zoey nodded. “Almost showtime, gentlemen.”

“When?” Sam asked, arms crossed.

“Tomorrow,” Zoey said softly, working hard to make sure she wasn’t fidgeting. Showing her nerves now would do no good, it would only serve to make the Winchesters nervous. And if they were nervous, they would fuck up the next day, and she couldn’t have that.

_The morons could get me killed._

“So,” Dean said with a clap of his hands. “Who needs a drink?”

Bobby nodded. “Wouldn’t say no.”

But Sam was shaking his head. “Dean, we should go over the plan again. We need to make sure we’ve got it down. If we fuck this up-”

“Oh, come on Sam,” Dean snapped. “We’ve been over it a hundred times. We’re not gonna get better than we are now.”

“Dean, we can’t be sloppy about this!”

Zoey listened idly as they argued, mostly just tuning them out to watch Castiel.

He was standing at the other end of the room, arms at his sides, watching the argument. She let her eyes linger on his strong jaw, his broad shoulders, his lean body. _I want him._

The thought struck her. _I want him._ The next day she was going to fight Lucifer. A fight that may very well kill her.

But for tonight, she wanted the angel.

Remembering his reaction to the way she killed the Whore, she transported herself across to the room to be standing next to him, letting her power brush lovingly at his face and neck as she did so.

She reached forward and took his cold hand in hers. She smirked when his blue eyes darkened as he looked down at her. “I have something to discuss with you, Castiel.”

Without another word to the humans in the room, she transported to herself and Castiel to her flat in London.

***

Dean blinked as the Cambion and the angel disappeared, then grinned. “Our little boy is growing up.” Then he frowned. “Although, you know, what the hell? Inopportune moment, anyone?”

Sam, however, was chuckling. “Good for Cass. He’s done a lot for us. He deserves some… Uh, time off.”

Dean snorted, then crossed his arms. _“Now?_ Is now really the time?”

“It is for Zoey,” Bobby said dryly. “Tomorrow may very well be her last day on Earth.”

That shut all of them up.

***

When they materialized, Castiel looked around her apartment curiously. Zoey smiled and let go of his hand, with a pang of regret, to strip her leather jacket off. “Home sweet home,” she said softly.

He stayed where he was, and after a few moments, his gaze landed on her again. “I thought you had a cat?”

She shrugged and kicked her sneakers off. “Murph comes and goes as he pleases. He’ll be back when he feels like it.” She frowned. “I hope someone takes him in after tomorrow.”

“I will take him to Bobby’s. I am sure Bobby will take care of him.”

The thought of the grumpy old man taking care of her grumpy old cat made Zoey smile. “Thank you. I like that idea quite a bit.”

She approached him again, savoring the tingles of awareness shooting through her as he looked at her. “What are we doing here, Zoey?”

She smirked and came to stand in front of him. “You know _exactly_ what we’re doing here, Castiel.”

His mouth twitched up in a smile. “I suppose I do.”

She put a hand on his cool chest, relishing the strength there. Then she looked up at him again. “I want us to go into this with open eyes, Castiel,” she said softly.

His eyes stayed on hers, and the blue there made her dizzy. “Open eyes?” he asked.

She nodded and took a deep breath. “Tonight, we are going to have mind-blowing, earth shattering sex.” His pupils blew wide at her words, making her shiver, but she continued. “And tonight, it’s okay if we love one another.”

“But tomorrow, Castiel, tomorrow you must resist. Your greatest sin has always been that you love humanity too much. Tomorrow, you can’t do that. _You can’t love me tomorrow.”_

“Why?” he asked hoarsely, the heat in his eyes faltering.

“Because tomorrow I go into the pit, and you’re going to leave me there. You’re not going to try to stop me, or save me, or rescue me once I’m in there. Tomorrow, Castiel, you’re going to let me go, and you’re going to walk away forever.”

She searched his gaze urgently, looking for any hint of doubt or hesitation. It was imperative that he agreed. If she thought for a moment that what they were about to do would make it too hard for him to let her go, she would put a stop to it now and they would go back.

“On one condition.”

She smiled. “What’s your condition?”

“I want to see you.”

She knew what he meant immediately, and blanched a little. “I… I don’t know if I even know how to drop my glamours anymore,” she admitted softly. She had been hiding since since she was thirteen.

“Try,” he insisted gently.

She closed her eyes and started letting the magic she didn’t even have to think about keeping up anymore fall. Layer by layer she peeled it away, until she was as she naturally looked.

She was a couple of inches taller than her glamour showed, so her head came to just below his chin. Her skin was a light brown, and her hair was a rich, dark chestnut color, that fell in thick waves down to just below her shoulders. All of those things were normal, and she could pass for human with those.

But her _eyes._ Her eyes were where she lacked humanity. Her irises were a deep, royal violet color, and her pupils were white. She met his lovely blue eyes nervously, anxiety thrumming through her. It had been almost a hundred years since someone had seen her eyes, and she was just hoping he didn’t hate them.

He brought his big, cold hand up to cup her cheek gently, his thumb running along her cheekbone. “They’re beautiful,” he said softly. “Your eyes. They’re lovely.”

She smiled up at him. “So? What say you, Castiel? Would you like to know what it’s like to lie with hell?”

Time gently slowed to a stop just as she asked the question, and the growing heat in his eyes made her heartbeat stutter. Suddenly, the two weeks of pressure and tension between the two of them made itself very known in the room. It felt like the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for Castiel’s response.

Which came in the form of a smirk, then crashing his lips down onto hers.

She cried out and went up on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him back fiercely. His big hands landed on her hips and he lifted her effortlessly, letting her wrap her legs around his waist before he slammed her against the wall hard enough to drive the breath from her.

Hands were everywhere, tearing clothes off and exploring one another. They both could have made their clothing disappear with a thought, but this was better, more raw, more human. Tonight, they weren’t an angel and a half demon. Tonight, they were two people who wanted each other.

When he bent to take a nipple into his mouth and suck hard, she cried out and arched her back. Her power mingled with his lazily, and when he bit down gently, it lashed out, sending a crack running through the ceiling. His power followed, fixing the damage and soothing her own wildly writhing energy.

As they made their way to the bed, _finally_ naked, it went like that. Her power would destroy something, his power would fix it. Her energy would flare out, his grace would catch and calm it.

He laid her on the bed gently, then pressed a kiss to her stomach, moving slowly up between her breasts. She gasped and moaned, threading her fingers through his hair and arching up into him.

“This is a sin, you know,” he murmured roughly, stopping to tug her nipple into his mouth again and sucking hard, briefly.

She cried out and struggled to process what he had said. “Is it?” she said breathily. “Well, what do you intend to do about it?” she asked as he made his way up to her neck, then pressed his lips against her ear.

“My duty,” he said gravely. “Zoey Crane, I’m going to fuck the sin right out of you.”

The filthy words coming from that perfect mouth, coming from an _angel,_ sent Zoey into a spiral of heat. He pressed his cock against her soaking entrance, and she struggled to push herself down onto him. His grace held her firmly in place, and she moaned in frustration.

“Hush, Zoey,” he said gently, in an echo of the first time he’d held her, and pressed his forehead to hers. “Let me take care of everything.”

“Castiel,” she whined, struggling against the hold he had on her. _“Please,”_ she whispered, moving to capture his mouth with hers, kissing him desperately.

He finally obliged, but sank into her slowly. He was _big,_ and the stretch was just this side of painful. That was all right with Zoey, some little part of her craved the pain. She couldn’t contain her moan when he bottomed out, and he gave her a deep growl that made her toes curl.

His pace was slow, loving, and he worshipped her with his hands and his mouth. She did the same for him, never able to settle on one place to lav with her tongue, or run her fingernails lightly across. Castiel was _beautiful,_ and she wanted every little piece of him saved to her memory forever.

When she felt heat start to bloom in her middle, she gasped. “Castiel, I’m-”

He moved a hand down to start toying with her clit, making her writhe in earnest beneath him. “I know, Zoey, let go, I will take care of you,” he growled in her ear.

When she came, she couldn’t contain herself. She tilted her head back and screamed, bucking hard beneath him, letting her hand resting flat on his cold chest serve as a touchpoint through the pleasure shrieking through her veins.

As she came, he picked up the pace, and absolutely _lost_ it above her. He drove into her hard and fast, the only thing keeping the bed from breaking was his grace holding her in one place. He came with a soft roar, then sealed his lips to hers as he shuddered into her.

She held him through the aftershocks, and then they lay like that for a long time, just wrapped up in one another.

***

Neither of them had any particular need to sleep, so they did not.

They spent the night memorizing one another. The spots that made the other moan, where each was sensitive to teeth and lips and tongue. What to do with their fingers to get the other to make that particular noise, between a grunt and a moan, in the back of their throat as their whole body convulsed.

Zoey’s demonic energy destroyed the apartment. Castiel’s angelic grace fixed it. (Around a century later, Castiel would discover that they had ripped open a part of the earth’s crust, causing an earthquake. He would come and fix it, a fond smile on his face for his Cambion.) Her power flared out in throes of passion, his stopped it from hurting her or him. They were evenly matched all night, because Zoey held her power back, kept it locked in a part of herself.

Sometime near dawn, she realized that her handprint was burnt onto his chest. She frowned. “Castiel, what is this? Why didn’t you tell me, or say something?”

“It was during your first orgasm,” he said matter-of-factly, resting on his back, pulling her back down to lay her head on his chest. “And I like it, so I did not mention it.”

She frowned and pressed a kiss to the spot, relishing the feel of his cool skin beneath her lips. “Sentimental idiot,” she accused softly, smiling to take the bite from her words.

“As long as I am able to keep a piece of you.”

***

The next morning, they dressed slowly, unable to keep their hands off of one another for very long. Once they were ready, he pulled her to him and kissed her hard, shuddering at the feeling of her heat pressed against him again. Castiel thought it would be a very, _very_ long time before the previous night wasn’t replaying itself in the back of his mind on a constant loop.

She sighed and leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to him for a long time before she pulled away and smiled up at him. Her glamours were firmly back in place, her hair a radiant violet that matched her real eyes.

“Let’s go fight the devil, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, beautiful readers! Here are my notes:  
> I own only Zoey Crane, the original character. I don’t own Supernatural or any of the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Reviews, comments, and kudos give me life and keep me going.  
> And, as always, thank you for reading, you beautiful, beautiful people.  
> **Almost done with Zoey and Castiel's story. I'm a little heartbroken.


	12. Since the Day I Was Born

_ Two weeks after Lucifer’s cage was opened… _ _   
_   
The sun was baking down on the Tuscan balcony where Zoey was sitting. She was slowly rocking in the beautiful, handmade rocker, and Murphy was curled in her lap. She stroked his thick fur while she thought.   
  
The balcony she was occupying was owned by a wealthy Italian, whose body was cooling not ten feet from her. He had been a mobster, the worst kind of intimidator and murderer. His wealth had been soaked in blood, so Zoey had made sure to spill some of his.   
  
And now, she rocked while she thought.   
  
As she got older, she got wearier. She often found herself wondering if she was making a difference. If this was the way to incite change, to help people. She had righted many wrongs in blood, violence, and fear, but nothing ever seemed to actually change.   
  
But now, with Lucifer walking the earth, maybe she could do some real good. She might not be around to see the good she had done, but that didn’t bother Zoey very much.   
  
“The world will probably be better off without me, anyway, Murph,” she said idly as she continued to pet him.   
  
_ Mrow. _   
  
***   
  
Zoey was surprisingly calm as she stood in the Kansas field that she would die in. She hadn’t been terribly nervous to begin with, and her night with Castiel had banished any lingering fears. Now she was eager to get it over with.   
  
She could do this. She could beat the devil. She just needed him  _ there. _   
  
She smiled at the three men standing around her. They probably didn’t even realize they’d taken up a protective stance around her. “Are we ready?” she asked cheerfully.   
  
Sam ran his hands through his hair. “Not really.”   
  
Dean shook his head. “No.”   
  
Castiel stayed silent.   
  
Zoey smiled. “That’s really the best time to start, anyway. We’re never going to feel ready.” She paused and chuckled. “Well,  _ you’re _ never going to feel ready.”   
  
Dean frowned. “And you do?”   
  
“Since the day I was born, quite frankly.”   
  
***   
  
It wasn’t because she was good. She had been telling the Winchesters the truth, that first night she’d met them.   
  
Zoey talked a good game, and Father Thomas’s faith in her  _ had _ irrevocably changed her course. Because he had believed in people, she had fought for them. She always would, when the choice presented itself.   
  
But, if she was going to be honest with herself, she had been biding time. Biding time until a fight worthy of her considerable power presented itself.   
  
It was really just luck that the final test of her full strength had her firmly in the white, instead of in the grey where she’d lived her life so far.   
  
***   
  
Zoey watched as Castiel placed a hand on Sam’s chest. The younger Winchester flinched, but stayed standing until the Enochian was scrubbed off of his ribs. Zoey nodded, her esteem of Sam rising. She’d done enough carving into ribcages to know that had to have hurt.   
  
As soon as Castiel took his hand away, Zoey felt it, and her thoughts turned to the fight ahead. She couldn’t help the way her breath caught, and she knew that if she’d been looking into a mirror, she would be able to watch her pupils dilate.   
  
She turned away from the Winchesters and Castiel to look at one fallen archangel, wearing one rapidly deteriorating vessel.   
  
She smiled. “Lucifer.”   
  
He tilted his head at her, a smile on his face, too. “You’re new.”   
  
“I am.”   
  
“Ah,” he said evenly, shaking a finger in the air. “You’re the, ah, the little slut that the Winchesters hired to kill me.”   
  
Castiel almost  _ growled _ behind her. Zoey threw a hand up and put a ward in front of him and the brothers.  _ No, _ she thought in her angel’s direction,  _ let me do this. _   
  
Lucifer watched all of this with a smirk, then looked at Sam. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, this is pathetic, even for the two of you. I mean, hiring a half-breed? An abomination?” He tsked. “Pretty stupid, boys.”   
  
Lucifer took a step to his right, and Zoey swiveled infinitesimally to follow him. She could tell what he was doing, and part of her yearned to do the same. They wanted to circle one another, watching for weaknesses and flaws, like hunters. Like  _ predators. _   
  
But she had something more important than posturing. She had the Winchesters, but more relevant, she had  _ Castiel. _   
  
When Lucifer saw that she didn’t move, he smirked, and a mean light came into his eyes. That was all right with Zoey. He thought that her protecting the Winchesters and Castiel was a weakness. And that was all right, too. He didn’t need to know that it was the source of her strength.   
  
“So what’s the plan, kids?” Lucifer asked genially. “Summon me here, get the little Cambion to kill me, then ride off into the sunset?”   
  
Zoey started to chuckle. She couldn’t help it, it was probably a bad move, but she couldn’t stop. Her power was  _ purring _ at her, so ready to hurt the cocky bastard in front of her that it was, for once, in perfect sync with her. It knew what it would get from this battle, it was willing to wait.   
  
Lucifer’s head tilted again. “Have I amused you?”   
  
She brought a hand up to cover her smiling lips. “I’m sorry, oh, I’m terribly sorry, how rude of me. It’s just… You think I want to  _ kill _ you.”   
  
When his face didn’t change, she continued. “Oh, dear me, no. I’m not here to kill you. Of course, I can see why you would think that. Lots of people want to kill you.”   
  
_ This is it. _ It was coming. She felt fluid and loose and ready. She could do this. She  _ would _ do this. She would protect the humans and the angel and she would take the archangel down. She was damn near giddy.   
  
“And you don’t? Want to kill me?”   
  
Her smile became sly and slight, and her hand felt to her side. “Oh, Lucifer, no. I’m not hunting to  _ kill.” _   
  
She let a beat of silence pass, then, “I’m hunting for  _ sport.” _   
  
She launched herself at Lucifer, and quicker than she would have believed, he was attacking back.   
  
Physically, they fought. He was good, fast, strong, but so was she. She’d spent almost a century studying martial arts, and the movements came to her without her having to summon them. Her body had memorized what to do, and she let it go.   
  
Because her focus wasn’t on the physical fight.   
  
Gigantic arcs of power flew through the air, fighting, testing, straining. Lucifer was powerful, and his grace would have towered even over Castiel’s. She could see why everyone had been scared. It would have been a very close thing, had she not been there.   
  
But, of course, she was.   
  
His power may have dwarfed another angel’s, but Zoey’s own energy matched Lucifer’s. Blow for blow, blast for blast, they were even. Great, thundering clouds rolled across the sky, and were immediately banished. Huge strikes of lightning came from seemingly out of nowhere, and seemingly struck nothing. Giant, mile-long gauges opened up in the earth, and then closed again, as if someone was running an enormous zipper up and down along the ground.   
  
And so they fought.   
  
_ Zoey, Dean is opening the cage now. _   
  
She heard Castiel’s voice in her head, and she sent back just an affirmative feeling. Her focus was on the fight, she didn’t have time to even form words between Lucifer’s fists and his power trying to punch through her own.   
  
They both felt the atmosphere change when the cage opened. Heavenly power snuck out in tendrils from the door of the cage, unlike anything Zoey had ever felt.   
  
Lucifer’s eyes flashed, and Zoey saw fear there, and knew she would win.   
  
Before she could make a move, however, Lucifer’s eyes shifted. And almost before she could react, he had turned away from her.   
  
Toward the Winchesters.   
  
Toward  _ Castiel. _   
  
_ “No!” _ she cried, and her power flared.   
  
More than she ever had, in that moment, Zoey used all of her power. It was huge, encompassing, world-ending. She felt huge and mighty and strong. She knew in that instant that, should she want to, she could spin the globe on the tip of her finger like a child’s basketball. She could end everything, if it struck her fancy.   
  
Instead, she wrapped her demonic aura around the archangel, whose mistake had been assuming that Castiel made her weak, and picked Lucifer and his grace up into the air.   
  
He fought, and it was just a bit of a struggle to hold onto him as she ran toward the opening of the cage. He was screaming incoherently, beating at her power, revealed once and for all as the tantrum-throwing child she had always suspected he was.  __ “No! No, you stupid half-breed bitch! Let me out of here! No!”   
  
She sensed her power slowly starting to drain. She had never used this much of it, it wasn’t used to this level of energy. She could keep wards up and teleport all day, but the power was like a muscle. She had never used it at capacity, and so it was weakening. Lucifer sensed it, too. His struggles increased, his screaming ceased, and she felt her control slipping.   
  
Lucky for her, she was at the edge of the cage.   
  
Without a second thought, hesitation, or doubt, Zoey leaped down into Lucifer’s cage, and used the last of her immense, awe-inspiring power, to yank the archangel back in with her. The cage slammed shut behind them, and she crowed in triumph, even as she was trapped forever with Lucifer.   
  
***   
  
The night before, she was lying on her stomach, savoring the way Castiel’s big, cold hand was slowly running up and down her spine. It was relaxing and soothing, and it made her feel cherished.   
  
For just a moment, Zoey wished she didn’t have to fight Lucifer. That she had kept her big mouth shut, hidden her power, and would be able to stay here, with him.   
  
She wanted to see how it ended, how heaven would deal with the aftermath. She wanted to protect and defend Castiel against his brothers and sisters, who Zoey could only assume wouldn’t be terribly happy with him. She wanted to see Dean and Sam fight monsters, she wanted to help them, and then mock them when they messed up. While she fixed the mistake, of course.   
  
She wanted to lie down for more than one night with her angel. She wanted to keep exploring every crease and muscle and ridge in his body, and let him explore hers. She wanted to fall in love with him.   
  
For just a moment, on the night before she died, Zoey Crane wished she had more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, beautiful readers! Here are my notes:  
> I own only Zoey Crane, the original character. I don’t own Supernatural or any of the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Reviews, comments, and kudos give me life and keep me going.  
> And, as always, thank you for reading, you beautiful, beautiful people.  
> **The end... Or is it?


	13. It Has To

“Is this going to work?”

A beat of silence.

“It has to.”

***

She was lying on a beach which was empty, save for her. A long violet towel protected her from the hot sand. There didn’t seem to be much point to keeping her glamours up, so beneath the white bikini her flesh was brown, as it was naturally.

When Zoey had gone into the cage, her first act had been to separate Lucifer from his vessel, Nick. Her second act had been to throw a barrier up between them and the angry archangel.

Nick was nice enough, but they found that they weren’t ever going to be good friends. So she had constructed him a world, complete with his own home, his wife, and a baby. She hadn’t heard any complaints (she kept an ear on his thoughts, in case Lucifer found a way to break through the barrier), so she assumed that everything was fine.

For herself, she couldn’t bring herself to be anything but alone. She could have easily constructed herself a Castiel to be with, and it would have been damn close to perfect. But every time she thought about doing it, in her moments of weakness, her heart ached. She didn’t want anything but the real, cold, firm angel.

And so she was alone.

Lucifer still raged against the barrier on occasion, but it held. Zoey was, after all, the most powerful being in all of heaven, earth, and hell. She had no trouble keeping Lucifer away from Nick and herself.

There was no way to tell how long she’d been in the cage, and Zoey had no urge to try to track the time. Eternity was eternity, whether you counted the hours going by or not.

She worried a little about going crazy, but it was a worry for later. Besides, if she was crazy, she probably wouldn’t mind a little bit of torture at the hands of the devil. She wasn’t overly concerned.

For now, she lay out on a pristine, empty beach, and relived her night with a half-fallen angel over and over again.

***

“You sure we’re ready?”

“Yes.”

***

She was in her apartment, sitting on the balcony, missing her cat, when a huge, horrible sound, like metal being torn apart, destroyed her peace.

Adrenaline splashed through her. Zoey leapt to her feet, her glamours already firmly in place again, fearing that Lucifer had found a weakness in her barrier. Eternity was going to be a lot less pleasant with him around.

But when she found the source of the disturbance, her racing mind shorted out.

He looked good. Less rumpled than the last time she’d seen him. He was more… Angelic, somehow.

He was standing in what looked like a hole in her reality. Through it, she could see the shorn metal of the cages, with Sam and Dean standing and smiling behind the angel.

Castiel smiled, and she lost herself for a moment in the joy shining in his blue eyes.

He held a hand out to her.

“You are needed, Zoey Crane.”

She stepped forward and slipped her hand into his without a second thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, beautiful readers! Here are my notes:  
> I own only Zoey Crane, the original character. I don’t own Supernatural or any of the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Reviews, comments, and kudos give me life and keep me going.  
> And, as always, thank you for reading, you beautiful, beautiful people.  
> **Zoey has been so much fun to write. I love her, and I'm going to miss her.  
> **Maybe, if the time becomes right, a sequel?


End file.
